


After the Rain

by DeandraAlleyan



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Eothiriel - Freeform, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:00:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27066040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeandraAlleyan/pseuds/DeandraAlleyan
Summary: Grief can drown a person, unless someone throws a lifeline, but just who is the rescuer and who is being rescued?
Relationships: Éomer Éadig/Lothíriel, Éowyn/Faramir (Son of Denethor II)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

(Dol Amroth, April, 3020 III)

**Chapter 1**

“Eomer…welcome. Welcome.”

Though Imrahil’s greeting was cordial, I sensed something was amiss. Before the Prince had departed Edoras the previous summer, we had agreed that I would visit Dol Amroth during our venture to Gondor for Eowyn’s wedding. While we had not set a specific date, Imrahil had assured me any time at all was fine with him, and I had thought to come before the nuptials, thinking we could travel to Minas Tirith together. Eowyn had not joined me, electing instead to go directly to Mundburg, eager to see her betrothed as soon as possible.

Now that I was here, I got the distinct impression that my arrival had been overlooked, and possibly was not so welcome as Imrahil claimed. “Do I come at a bad time?” I asked. The Rohirrim were a forthright people, and I would not stay if it would inconvenience my friends. I was sure there must be a good reason for any reticence.

Imrahil sighed heavily, and clamped a hand on my shoulder, drawing me with him. “Come inside and I will explain,” he answered quietly.

We moved into the castle, and though normally my eyes would have flicked about with interest to study my new surroundings, I was too preoccupied for such at the moment. Imrahil led me to his study, closing the door behind us. Silently, he moved over and poured us each a goblet of wine, handing one to me before seating himself in a chair. I followed his example and settled on a couch nearby, waiting to hear what he would say.

For several long moments, nothing was spoken as Imrahil studied the wine swirling in his glass, but at length he offered, “You could not know, of course, and in the midst of it all I neglected to send word…” His voice trailed off momentarily, but then he pressed on more firmly, a slight hoarseness tinging his voice, “My wife…passed away, nearly a fortnight past. We are still…adjusting…to our loss. I confess, I had forgotten you were coming.”

Now that I looked more closely, I could see the lines of tiredness etched in his face, the dark circles under his eyes. He looked far older than when last we met. As he again lapsed into silence, I opted for honesty. “Would you prefer I leave, my friend? I can visit another time.”

“No…no,” he hastened to declare, then raised weary eyes to add, “We stood by you in your grief. I would be grateful to have you with me now.”

I nodded, readily willing to offer my support. “Of course.” I hesitated, then queried, “Do you still plan to travel to Minas Tirith for the wedding?”

There was another long silence before he nodded, and straightened with determination. “Certainly! I would not have our sorrows taint this day of joy for Faramir and Eowyn. Though, I fear, I have lost track of time. I must hasten to make travel arrangements.”

“I am at your service,” I sincerely assured him. “Command me as you will.”

“Thank you, my friend! That is most appreciated,” he replied, smiling warmly.

Rising, Imrahil moved to the door and sent a servant, lingering outside, to fetch his steward. Once the man had joined us, we set to determining the best way to effect our journey. It was decided that travel by boat up the Anduin would be the easiest, though I would send most of my escort party overland to meet us there. A party of Swan Knights would guide my men, and thus be in the White City to attend Imrahil and his family while there.

Once the matter was planned, his steward left to make the arrangements, and the two of us had a quiet dinner there in his study, catching up on news. Even so, Imrahil’s thoughts repeatedly drifted to his departed wife, quite naturally, and I spent much of the time indulging him in his reminisces about her and their life together. While I knew that many of the Gondorian nobility wed for practical concerns, and nobility often did so for the sake of alliance, clearly there had been love in Imrahil’s union. He did not say whether it had always been so, right from the outset, but it mattered little. What was most important was that love had blossomed between them. Personally, I could not imagine taking a wife whom I did not love deeply even as we said our vows. Political alliances might have their place, but I was determined that they would not define my future. I had given much of myself to the Riddermark over the years, and I was prepared to give even more, until the day I died, but I would do it with a loving wife beside me. Though Eowyn married for love, and political considerations never entered her thoughts, still her wedding was extremely advantageous in that regard. As far as I was concerned, one such marriage in our family was sufficient, though I did not relish the thought of the arguments that would surely ensue with my counselors if I chose a bride they deemed ‘lacking’.

The afternoon was far spent when I at length retired to the chambers I had been given for the duration of my visit. Once the servant left me, I spent a little time examining the room. Like Mundburg, they used mostly stone in their constructions, and all was smooth and cool. The chambers were far larger than those in Meduseld, where only the king himself had anything so spacious. Just as in Minas Tirith, there were sunken chambers for bathing, and I grinned to myself. I had become quite spoiled with that guilty pleasure, and had been reluctant to leave them behind when at last I returned home. There was also a balcony which overlooked a garden that was already well in flower, as the warmer climate here did not hold the plants in check so long as happened in the north. Imrahil had mentioned his wife had a fondness for roses, and the fragrance from innumerable bushes wafted up to me. 

But along with that came a new smell – a salty tang to the air. The sea. The road here had given us snatched glimpses of it, but nothing like the view from the castle. It almost seemed that I could see for leagues, gazing out over unending expanses of water. Boats with brightly colored sails bobbed in the harbor below, and gulls wheeled and cried overhead. Both Imrahil and his sons had spoken much of their home, and I had been looking forward to seeing the sea for the first time in my life. I was not at all disappointed with this new sight, and I was eager to explore it more closely. The unexpected circumstances might mean I would need to do so more on my own than in the company of my friends, as I had originally planned, but either way I would make sure I got my fill before we departed five days hence.

I was not sure what to expect at supper. I had met only two of Imrahil’s sons, Erchirion and Amrothos, while at Minas Tirith. The eldest and heir to the throne, Elphir, had remained at Dol Amroth to rule in his father’s stead while Imrahil was away at war in the north. Imrahil’s wife and daughter had also remained at home during that time, and due to various reasons had neither joined us for the victory celebrations nor come to Edoras with the Prince for Theoden’s funeral. Even then, I knew Imrahil’s wife had suffered health difficulties, and his daughter had readily attended her mother. Additionally, Elphir’s wife had birthed their second child, a daughter, and so both Imrahil’s wife and daughter were eager to assist the new mother with Elphir’s heir, Alphros, while she recovered from the birthing.

Both husband and sons had spoken warmly of Sirrin, Imrahil’s wife, and I wondered which was more difficult – losing a spouse or a mother. Certainly I had seen the devastating effects of the former in my own life. My mother had succumbed to her despondency when my father was killed, and even the needs of her two beloved children could not hold her to this world. Yet, Eowyn and I had suffered cruelly also in the loss of both our parents in so short a time. No, I was not sure I could determine which was the more difficult.

A servant appeared, informing me supper would be served in an hour, so I retreated from my reverie to prepare. I was grateful to be among friends and not have to put on appearances for them. I dressed comfortably, as Imrahil had urged earlier, and made my way to the main hall at the appointed hour. I was directed to the dining room, where I was quickly greeted by Erchirion and Amrothos, though I noted the subdued manner of both. While we were engaged in trivial conversation, Elphir and his wife, Alcathir, arrived. As I was making their acquaintance, Imrahil came with his daughter on his arm. 

Imrahil and his sons were all handsome men, and I had seen many a lady of Minas Tirith eye them appreciatively. Although part of that might be attributed to their status, it had been evident those of the feminine gender were well pleased with what their eyes beheld also. Around a campfire one night, Amrothos had told me the tale of how their family supposedly had Elvish ancestry, and looking at Lothiriel, I could definitely believe the rumors were based in fact. When she brushed her hair back and I caught a glimpse of an ear, I half expected to see a pointed tip upon it.

Gimli and I had once nearly come to blows over my failure to acknowledge the Lady of the Golden Wood as the fairest that ever lived. I had chosen, instead, Queen Arwen Evenstar, discovering that raven locks greatly appealed to me. Now, looking at this woman, I began to question whether Queen Arwen truly was the fairest lady of my acquaintance, for this woman was quite her equal. In some ways, I preferred Lothiriel’s earthly allure over the ethereal perfection of the Elves. The only thing that marred her loveliness was the desolation in her eyes. It wrenched at my heart to see it, for she was far too young and fair to be so burdened.

I became aware that Imrahil had introduced us, and I quickly bowed politely over her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. She gave me a cordial smile, but her thoughts were not on me or this gathering. She was here of necessity only; given a choice, I was sure she would have remained secluded in her room. How well I knew what a mistake that would be. It had been a constant battle to draw Eowyn out of her room and encourage her to spend time with our uncle and cousin. Even I had preferred hiding, alone in my misery. Fortunately, neither Uncle nor Theodred had been willing to allow it. Both were familiar with grieving and they knew they must save us from ourselves. Gazing at Lothiriel, a determination rose in me not to allow her to withdraw from society and be sucked down into that morass of melancholy. While I remained in Gondor, I would do all I could to help her through this trial.

Imrahil directed everyone to be seated, and I found myself between Imrahil and Erchirion, but across from Lothiriel. For the most part, she kept her eyes lowered during the course of the meal, and my few attempts at drawing her out only brought perfunctory responses. She excused herself not long after the supper was concluded, and Imrahil watched her leave the room with anguish on his face. At length, he murmured to me, “Please forgive my daughter, Eomer. She does not intend to slight you, but she was very close to her mother and she is finding it difficult to cope with the loss.”

“Do not apologize, my friend. I quite understand,” I quickly answered.

Amrothos changed the subject then, saying, “You seem to have brought more than a few spare horses with you Eomer. Is that not unusual?”

I grinned at him and shrugged. “Not so unusual for the Rohirrim, but these I did bring for a purpose.” I hesitated, as the situation had become awkward with the passing of Sirrin. Finally, I admitted, “I intended them as gifts for the family of Imrahil of Dol Amroth. There is one for each family member.” 

Erchirion took my meaning first, and coughed nervously. At last, he looked directly at me, and suggested, “Perhaps…if you do not wish to keep the animal, that is, the extra horse might be given to Alcathir.” His words made my intent plain and the others shifted uncomfortably.

Smiling at the lady in question, I answered, “A fine idea, I think. I would be honored if you would accept the mare I had intended for Lady Sirrin. It seems most appropriate for her to come to you.”

My response brought hesitant smiles from the rest of the family, and I let out a ragged breath. Walking on pins and needles – that’s what it was going to be like for the next few days, I was sure. Conversation turned to more innocuous subjects then, but we did not tarry long. I had had a long day, and I was certain they were not feeling much in the mood for entertaining anyone, even a friend.

xxx

I arose early the next morning, as was my wont, before the household was stirring. Cladding myself in a shirt and breeches, I strolled out to enjoy the garden and the rising sun. The sight of the sun’s rays, glinting off the ocean, was a marvel to witness, and I leaned long on a wall overlooking the bay, drinking it all in. A noise behind me caught my attention, and I was instantly alert; old habits die hard, I suppose. When I turned it was to find Lady Lothiriel, eyeing me uncertainly.

I sensed she was on the verge of making a hasty exit, so I acted quickly to forestall it. “My lady,” I grinned, offering a cursory bow. “I hope you do not mind my enjoying your garden, and the view.” I gestured behind me toward the sea. 

A slight smile tugged at her tense mouth, but she answered, “Not at all, my lord. My mother…intended her garden to be a source of pleasure for all.” At the mention of her mother, she stiffened, and appeared to wrestle with her emotions, only just barely managing to subdue them. 

To distract her thoughts, I said, “I wonder if I might impose on your hospitality even more, and request that you show me about the town later today? And you could introduce me to the seashore for the first time in my life.”

My eyes pinned her in place when I felt sure she would otherwise flee. Various emotions crossed her face as she struggled with my request. I suspected that no one had pressed her before this to resume regular day-to-day activities, but I was convinced that the longer she hid herself away, the harder it would be to return to living her life. Finally, her native sense of protocol seemed to win out over her disinclination, and she nodded. “Of course, my lord. I would be happy to accompany you.” 

Not entirely the truth, I was certain, but it was sufficient that she had agreed. I was not much of a diplomat, but I did know how to get my way when I wanted to do so, and I would make good use of that talent in drawing Lothiriel from her womb of sorrow. I would not see her lost to despondency – that was one war in which I fully intended to come off the victor.

We stood in awkward silence for a moment, until I requested, “Will you show me about the garden? There are some flowers here I do not recognize. Perhaps we do not have them in the north.”

She seemed grateful for the safe topic of conversation and nodded, gesturing to her right along a path that meandered through the entire garden. As we strolled, she had me point out any plants that were unfamiliar, and then she told me briefly of them. It took a while, but by the time we were almost back to our starting point, she had relaxed considerably. Smiling in my direction, she informed me, “It should be time for breakfast, if you are hungry, my lord.”

A growling in my stomach answered before I could speak any words, and I gave her a sheepish look. “I suppose that response is plain enough. Please, lead the way.” I offered my arm to her and she guided us inside, but I considered it a constructive interlude.

Over our meal, it was decided to take our tour of the town in mid-morning, as Lothiriel had household matters to attend to prior to that. Imrahil and his sons had other plans for their morning, so we were left on our own for the venture. At the agreed upon hour, I met Lothiriel in the entry hall. I had tidied my appearance, slipping a tunic over my shirt and tying my hair back. Lothiriel offered me a pleasant smile that did not particularly reflect in her eyes.

She did not want to be doing this – it was evident in every line of her posture. Seeing it, I almost faltered in my determination, but I knew it was for the best, and so I steeled myself against the prickles of self-reproach that threatened to undermine my efforts on her behalf.

She gestured toward the front doors and we exited out onto the terrace in front of the castle. Guards of both hers and mine were waiting there, and my eyes narrowed at the sight. 

“Do we truly need guards attending us?” I questioned, hoping her answer would be agreeable.

She hesitated, then observed, “I have little doubt my father would consider you adequate protection for my safety, my lord, but I am not so sure if your people would think it wise for you to be out in public unaccompanied by a guard.”

I considered this, then grinned at her. “Then I shall go armed and be your protection, and take only a single man of my own. Between the two of us, we should be able to ensure a secure outing!” 

She smiled in consent to my plans, and I called to Walda, instructing him in Rohirric to follow us but keep a goodly distance to afford us privacy. I directed the servant at the door to send someone to my room for my sword, and we waited for his return a short time later, then set off.

Even without my height, Walda and I would be easily picked out in a crowd, if only because of our flaxen hair. I did not anticipate difficulty, but precautions were always wise, and until I married and produced heirs, my people would remain nervous about my facing danger. I could not complain overly much anyway, as I almost felt naked when I did not have my sword at my hip, so accustomed was I to its presence there. Walda quickly dropped back to trail some distance behind us, and though I caught occasional glimpses of him, he honored my directive quite well.

I had not been mistaken; the longer we wandered, the more Lothiriel’s tenseness eased and she seemed to enjoy the outing. At first I needed to ask many questions to draw information from her, but gradually she took the initiative in sharing details of our surroundings, and suggesting places to visit.

I was a little surprised at her extensive knowledge about the industry of her homeland, but then she indicated her father had encouraged her involvement in matters of the kingdom, believing it would be useful to her even if she did not rule. During the War, when Imrahil had been absent and Elphir was in command, he had relied on his sister’s assistance to keep things running smoothly.

Not wanting to focus too much on the War, for her sake as well as my own, I turned the conversation elsewhere, asking if we might locate some shops where I could find a wedding gift for my sister. I had already gotten the traditional gift of a sword, that I would pass to Faramir as a symbol of the transfer of Eowyn’s care to another, but I wanted to surprise her with something else, something personal.

Lothiriel pondered my request for a moment, then alternatively suggested, “Perhaps we should find some dinner and visit the seashore before shopping, my lord. It will save you having to carry anything around with you until we return to the castle.”

Her idea made sense and I allowed her to steer me to an outdoor stall selling seafood. Other than a bit of fish from the streams of Rohan, I was not acquainted with water-dwelling food, and I eyed it warily. Lothiriel confidently made selections for us, and then I carried our plates to one of the small tables not far away. She showed me the proper way to enjoy scallops and clams and batter-fried fish. Though hesitant at first, after my first taste, I ate with more enthusiasm. The food might look unusual to me, but the flavor was wonderful, and there was a glint of amusement in Lothiriel’s eyes at my behavior. “I am pleased you like it, my lord! The bounty of the sea is one of our greatest assets in Dol Amroth.”

After making sure Walda had eaten also, Lothiriel led me to the seashore and my first encounter with the ocean in close proximity. The nearer we had come to it, the louder was the roar of the water crashing on the beach. Lothiriel slipped off her shoes, bidding me to do the same, and I gestured for Walda to settle on the rocks and not bother trying to follow us. He could watch us well enough from that vantage point.

The sand proved difficult to walk in, until we got closer to the water where it was damp and packed. The tide rushing in and out made for precarious footing, that required a bit of attention to stay balanced. As we walked along the water’s edge, Lothiriel told me lore of the sea, and stopped periodically to pick up shells or other flotsam on the beach for my examination. We even found a springy length of seaweed which caused me to marvel.

While I studied it, Lothiriel had wandered a short distance away from me, and was gazing out to sea. As I looked at her, her face took on a distant focus, and slowly, as whatever thoughts took her, she began to crumple right before my eyes. Tears began to slip down her cheeks and she let out a pain-filled gasp, choking with emotion. She wrapped her arms around herself as though to offer comfort that she could not find elsewhere.

I stood watching her weep, and wondering what I should do. When we were children, and Eowyn had grieved our parents, it had seemed perfectly natural to enfold her in my arms and hold her close. But Lothiriel and I were not children; indeed, we were virtually strangers. I did not wish to add to her distress with any untoward behavior that might alarm her, coming from someone with whom she was so little acquainted. But neither could I walk away. Though my mind whispered that was the best course – to leave her in her sorrow – I could not do it. 

After a moment’s more wrestling with my thoughts on the matter, I decisively stepped forward. The proper protocols be hanged! The woman needed solace, and she needed it now, from whoever happened to be present. I understood the ache inside her; I knew it intimately. As a boy, thinking myself too old to show weakness, I had struggled not to let others see my pain, thus shutting myself off from their consolation. My only respite had been in holding Eowyn, and thus taking comfort in return, though she did not know she was giving it.

Moving close to Lothiriel, I slowly turned her to face me, and pulled her into my embrace. If she was alarmed, she gave no indication of it. Her posture was perhaps tense for an instant, but then she melted against my chest and wept freely, as though flood waters long held back had suddenly been loosed. I was not consciously aware of what I was saying, but I believe I murmured soothing words as one hand cupped her head, and the other rubbed her back, until at length the storm passed and she stilled, save for an occasional hiccup or sniffle. And still we did not move apart. Having taken this step, I was committed to it, however long she required it of me.

I wondered, somewhat, at the strength of my conviction to aid Lothiriel’s recovery. I could not say why exactly it mattered so much to me, though perhaps it had to do with a sense of obligation to her father. Imrahil had rescued Eowyn when she appeared lost; now was my opportunity to repay the debt. At that thought, my arms tightened around her, holding her safe.

At length, her composure slowly began to return, and along with it came a measure of embarassment for her show of emotion. Avoiding my eyes, she murmured strickenly, “I am so very sorry, my lord. Please forgive me!”

Quietly, I replied, “There is no need. Such sorrow must be expressed or it will fester inside, and you will not heal.” I very much hoped she would not question how I had learned that truth. At this moment, I did not feel up to relating the experiences which had led me to such an understanding, but I knew it to be true all the same.

For a moment, she did not respond, but eventually nodded slowly in acceptance, then began to pull free of my embrace. Reluctantly I allowed her to do so, not entirely sure she should withdraw so quickly and, surprisingly, feeling bereft with the loss of her warmth.

We stood in silence, not meeting one another’s gaze, both of us rather disconcerted by what had just been shared between us. “Your…your guard will wonder if we do not return soon. He cannot see us here.” She was gazing back toward where Walda had settled on some rocks, and I turned to follow her glance, though I did not doubt her words.

“He is not the nervous sort. He will not be alarmed unless we are absent far longer than this,” I murmured in answer. Then, flicking a look back out over the sea, I sighed and asked, “What was it you saw that…affected you?”

She gave me a stiff smile. “My mother loved the sea. Father sometimes teased her that she was not truly a woman, but a sprite come up out of the depths to seduce a mortal man!” At the look of surprise on my face, she laughed. “Do not be so amazed! Though you know the Prince and the warrior, there is much more to Imrahil of Dol Amroth! She loved him so! Whenever he would accuse her thus, she merely replied that she would gladly forsake the sea if it meant spending the rest of her days at his side. I think…I think she just did not expect those days to be so few.” Her face fell again, as more tears slid down her cheeks, and I reached out to grip her shoulder supportively.

“None of us knows the length of our days,” I commented, “but it sounds to me as though she made the most of what she was given.”

She brushed at the tears still trickling from her eyes, but she smiled determinedly up at me. “Aye! Aye, she did!” 

We stood in silence, side by side, staring out to sea, and then almost without my noticing, she began strolling back the way we had come, steering a course to safer ground. The lady might have been flustered by my friendly attentions to her, but you could not discern it in her bearing. She had recovered her composure and continued on as though moments before she had not stood wrapped in my arms as she wept. I suppose I should not have found that unexpected, considering she was the daughter of a prince, but I was not convinced the storm had passed and her troubles had ended. I would continue watching until I truly believed she had turned the corner on her grief.

**_TBC_**

Sirrin – “river queen”  
Walda - from weald - “power”


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

I did just that over the next few days. If she had thought her duty discharged with the one excursion, and that I would turn my attention elsewhere, she was mistaken. Daily I confronted her, cheerfully requesting her company for various endeavors, and though she may have been less than enthusiastic, she never refused me. Had her family members not been so caught up in their own grief, and men, they might have noticed more, and possibly taken exception to my concerted efforts with Lothiriel. 

But men grieve differently, and we have the outlet of sport to bleed off some of the sorrow that gets so pent up in ladies. At eleven years, when my father was killed, I had already begun learning of weapons. By the time I went to live at Meduseld with my uncle and cousin, I was old enough to seriously undertake weapons training, and Theodred wisely took me in hand. Possibly my skill partly resulted from the anger and pain I was feeling at the time, for I threw myself wholeheartedly into the practice sessions, determined to become adept quickly so that I might seek my revenge. I had spent the better part of my life ever since doing just that.

It is my opinion that ladies, particularly noblewomen, have too little to occupy their minds and their hands, and so distress such as this preys upon their thoughts without relief. Therefore, if the natural course of her activities would give Lothiriel no outlet, then I would. At present, I had nothing encroaching upon my time, so Lothiriel became my focus, whether she wished it or not.

Probably part of the reason I had supported Eowyn in her goal of becoming a shieldmaiden, proficient with sword, was an innate understanding that she needed that physical activity to help her through the struggle of loss. Over the years, as we were growing up, I could not give her a great many things I believed she needed, but I could give her that, and did. Naturally, I had no idea that it might lead her into battle on the Pelennor one day, but even that choice I did partly understand. At times, anger and frustration drive us to follow any course open to us, and that was the only path my sister could see at that point.

When we departed for Minas Tirith, at least Lothiriel was comfortable with my presence, if sometimes annoyed by it. Since we had not made it to the shops that first day of walking about town, she had taken me the next day when I again sued for her companionship. She had led me to a tiny, nondescript shop on an out-of-the-way street, but I could readily see why she liked it. Though I am not one who pays much mind to jewels and adornment, the trinkets on display here were not the usual kinds I generally saw gracing the arms, necks and ears of the nobility. Much of it was made from things of the sea, according to Lothiriel, and many she had to explain to me what they were as I did not recognize them.

At length, I settled on a necklace for Eowyn. It was crafted from tiny ‘starfish’ – at least that is what Lothiriel called them, though they bore no resemblance to any fish I had ever seen. They did look like minuscule stars, though, and reminded me somewhat of the stars on the mantle that Faramir had given my sister. I thought Eowyn would enjoy that association, and being given something so unusual from her new homeland, so I purchased it. I had some concern about how comfortable it might be, since fish or not, it was quite rough to the touch, but Lothiriel assured me that Eowyn could wear a high-necked dress under it to keep it off her skin and all would be well.

My men had rested two days, before setting out overland, and thus were several days ahead of us, though they would arrive about the same time as we did. Imrahil had his own boat, with a sizeable hold to accommodate our horses. I was not sure how Firefoot and the others would like the unsteady footing, but they managed well. Though they snorted and fussed at first, they soon settled and learned how to shift their weight to keep their balance on the rolling deck. 

Not only the horses were uncertain. I noticed more than one apprehensive look pass among my escort, and I could not blame them. While I had enjoyed viewing the sea from the shore, climbing into a craft, though it seemed sturdy, was an unsettling proposition. I had heard talk indicating that some suffered sickness onboard boats, and it did not take long for two of my men to be so afflicted. They spent much time in their quarters. Personally, I only had a few brief moments of queasiness, but luckily nothing of great consequence. Certainly it was an easier way to travel than on horseback – not needing to make and break camp each day, not having to sit a saddle for hours, not having to worry about inclement weather making a miserable journey. At times, when we were below deck, I could almost think I was still upon land. We dined at tables, sitting on benches, and slept in beds.

Even onboard the boat, I continued my efforts with Lothiriel. I wasted no time in pressing her to show me about the boat and keep me well informed of what we were passing along the way, and everything new I stumbled upon. At times I must have seemed quite unintelligent with my abundance of questions, but if it served its purpose, I was willing to risk it.

Despite my persistence, however, I could not entirely remove her despair. Only time could truly heal her heart; I knew that, but still I had to try and ease the passage of that time until it began to happen. I was not surprised when I ventured on deck late one night, to find Lothiriel gazing up at the stars, lost in thought and tears moistening her cheeks.

“You think too much,” I murmured quietly, causing her to start.

Hastily she brushed at her cheeks, and avoided looking at me, trying to sound nonchalant as she asked, “What do you mean?”

“Dwelling on your mother will not bring her back, but it is as salt in the wound,” I answered.

Challengingly, she turned to face me and replied, “Would you have me forget her then?”

“No, never that. You could not, even if I counseled it. Just…do not give in to it. The memories of her will come unbidden, and may even move you to tears, but do not consciously seek them out. It is not a testament to her life to do so; it only prolongs your misery and slows your healing. Though I never knew her, I am sure she would have you live joyously, not weep in sorrow.”

Struggling for composure, she turned away again, and hoarsely asked over her shoulder the question I had dreaded. “And how is it that you are so expert in the matter, my lord?”

It took me several minutes to form a response. At length, I told her, “I have lost many people in my life who were dear to me. It never gets any easier.” She turned to face me again, and her expression suggested she anticipated further explanation, though I was not comfortable doing so. Still, how could I expect her to rely on my judgement in such things if I was unwilling to reveal anything of myself. Could I counsel her in overcoming her grief if it was evident I had not managed to do so myself?

Men are not supposed to show their feelings – it denotes weakness to do so. Confessing the pain I felt was difficult, but slowly I acknowledged to her, “My father was killed when I was eleven years, and my mother died of grief less than a year later, leaving me and Eowyn alone. My uncle took us into his home, and we were loved by both he and our cousin, Theodred, and we loved them in return. Yet both of them were lost to me in this war; Theodred at the Fords of Isen and Theoden on the Pelennor. For a time, I even thought Eowyn was gone from me, and that I was completely alone.” 

Voicing it, I was overcome with the enormity of my loss. All of my family, almost, taken from me. Eowyn was all I had left, but now she was leaving me through marriage. Suddenly I felt very cold and alone. I did not begrudge my sister the joy she had found, nor would I ever think to interfere and try to keep her with me for my own selfish reasons, but I would miss her greatly. Our shared grief as children had made us very close, and the uneasy climate in Meduseld, as Grima had woven his spell over Theoden for so long, had kept us clinging to one another for support through difficult times. Theodred, too, had become a brother to us, as dear as any born of our parents. But now the circle would be irrevocably broken, and I was not sure how I would manage with no one to succor me.

I thought the darkness would hide my feelings, even if they snuck onto my face, but the moonlight betrayed me. Lothiriel laid a cool hand on my arms, where I had them crossed over my chest, and murmured softly, “I think perhaps you are not so expert in recovering from grief as you would have me believe, my lord.”

There was great compassion in her voice, though her countenance was in shadow. Certainly she knew enough of the subject to comprehend my feelings. I was grateful for her easy acceptance of my words, and that she did not seem to consider me weak because of them.

We stood in silence for several moments, and then she withdrew her hand from my arm to adjust her cloak more closely about her, shivering slightly in the cool night air. “If you will excuse me, my lord, I will try to take some rest. You should try also. We will arrive in port sometime tomorrow.” She gave me an understanding smile and moved away, but I lingered for a while longer, remembering our exchange of words and wondering why I was so drawn to her. By the time I made for my bed, I had reached no firm conclusions, and I set the matter aside for later consideration.

xxxxx

Both the men and horses of Rohan were glad to set foot on solid ground once more. I could have joined Imrahil’s family in riding up to Minas Tirith in the carriages provided, but opted instead to go with my men to check on the Rohirrim encampment on the Pelennor. Once we felt our horses had regained their legs sufficiently, we gave in to their eagerness for a run, engaging in a swift gallop. Apparently word had spread that our boat had docked, for Elfhelm rode out to meet us and assure me that all was well and the men were settled in. My escort party had arrived from Dol Amroth just the day before, and as there seemed nothing there I needed to do, I continued on to the city. I took only two guards this time, as housing was still limited within the city, leaving the remainder to settle in with the rest of our company.

Eothain, my close friend who had served as my second in command when I was Third Marshal, fell in as one of my guards, along with Walda and my esquire. Eothain was eager to hear my tales of Dol Amroth, as he had been in the group that rode from Edoras with Eowyn rather than accompanying me to the shore. I told him of all I had seen and done, though I did not mention my great attention to the Lady Lothiriel. That was no concern of his or anyone else’s, though I wasn’t sure why I wished to conceal it. 

Perhaps I feared others would mistake it for something other than it was – friendly assistance in dealing with a thorny problem. I was an unmarried man, one many felt should marry quickly and soon, instantly producing offspring, and there was no question that Lady Lothiriel would be deemed eminently suitable to serve as queen. Now that I was king, my every move was studied and analyzed, secret motive seen where none existed. Gone were the days when I could act simply for the desire to be helpful. Well, I did not intend to encourage such speculation. I would continue to be cordial to the lady, and do all I could to assist her, but I would keep sufficient public distance so as not to incite rumors.

I was not surprised, as we drew near the city gates, to see a horse galloping madly toward us. It was clear the animal bore a woman rider, and I had no doubt it was Eowyn riding in such a manner. As they drew closer, it was plainly Windfola, and Eowyn reined him in just in time to skid to a stop beside us, scattering dust and pebbles as she did.

Teasingly, I waved at the air in front of me as though to find clean air to breathe. “Is the city under attack, Eowyn? Shall I send for an eored to ride with me?”

She made an unladylike face at me and then grinned. “I am just pleased you are here. How did you like Dol Amroth?” She fell in alongside me as we continued on toward Minas Tirith.

Once more, I spoke of my time there, and warned her of the sorrow Imrahil’s family had suffered. She did not respond for a moment, then acknowledged, “Faramir mentioned Sirrin’s passing. He cannot help but be affected by it, though he has seen little of his aunt in recent years. I hope it will not burden him too much, though I would understand if it did.”

I reached over and grasped her arm understandingly, and she gave me a grateful smile. We had been supportive of one another for a long time. I might be handing her over to the care of another man soon, but I would always be there for her, whenever she needed me.

xxxxx

With Imrahil’s family settled in their townhouse, and me staying in the King’s house, I did not see a great deal of Lothiriel once we arrived in the White City. Only at gatherings did I have occasion to glimpse her, but now it was more difficult to approach her as I had more demands on my time. Even so, I kept a watchful eye, ready to go to her aid if ever I thought her struggling to cope.

As Faramir was much beloved in the city, the celebrations surrounding his wedding stretched over a number of days, and were taking place throughout the city. I had ventured into town, mostly to stretch my legs a little, and revelry was everywhere. I was readily recognized as Eowyn’s brother, and both good wishes and ale were pressed upon me, even in the early morning. I declined the latter, until later in the day, but gladly received the former, pleased with the approbation Gondor had for my sister.

I had never seen my sister so frantic as she became the nearer we drew to her wedding day. She began to fret about detail after detail, checking and rechecking that all was ready. When I could stand her agitation no more, I seized her firmly by the shoulders and pressed her to halt in her frenzied scurrying about her chamber. “Eowyn,” I said sternly, “be at peace. It is no matter if all is perfect, so long as you and your beloved are joined forever.”

“But this is Gondor!” she protested, as if that explained everything. “Things…matter more here!”

“Not to Faramir, they do not. He will take one look at you and see nothing else. And if the rest can only stand about finding fault, then they must be very sad individuals indeed. Please, relax, and enjoy this time. You will not have another opportunity – this moment will never come again. The dress is ready, you are ready and Faramir is ready. Tomorrow you will stand before Aragorn and be made a wife.” Then, grinning wickedly, I added, “If you must fret, remember that tomorrow night is your wedding night, when you will be with a man for the first time ever…”

Her eyes went wide and she smacked my chest. “I hate you!” she snarled, glaring up at me, but could not maintain it long and collapsed in my arms. “Is it truly that simple, Eomer? I do not want to disappoint Faramir, or embarrass him in front of his people.”

I pressed a kiss to her head. “Where did this come from?” I questioned. “Has Faramir looked askance at anything you have ever said or done? Indeed, did he not choose a wild shieldmaiden from the north over all the proper ladies of Gondor to be his wife? I say again, be at peace. You are well familiar with courtly protocol from attending Theoden. You will not embarrass Faramir, and you would be hard pressed to disappoint him. He is hopelessly in love with you; do you not know that?”

She hugged me tightly and nodded. “I do. I do know it, but thank you for reminding me.” Then turning her face up to gaze intently at me, she added, “Thank you for everything, Eomer. I know it will not be easy for you, not having me with you at Meduseld. Thank you for…” Her words trailed off, but I knew what she meant, and simply held her close.

“You are very welcome, sister. Be happy! I insist upon it!” I murmured, pressing another kiss to her hair.

xxxxx

Despite our discussion the previous day, Eowyn was still on edge when I went to collect her and take her for her wedding. Not until her eyes met Faramir’s in the Tower Hall did she seem to start breathing once more. My part in presenting my sister to the king of Gondor and her betrothed was brief, and then I stood aside to become a mere bystander like everyone else. If I allowed myself to dwell on the proceedings, I knew I would struggle for composure, so I let my mind wander to other things in an effort to distract myself and maintain a dignified bearing.

My eyes wandered over those in attendance who were in my view without having to turn my head, and I was surprised to find two large grey eyes steadily watching me. I was not sure why Lothiriel’s attention was so focused on me, but I got the uncomfortable feeling she was seeing more than I intended to reveal. She knew. I was sure she did. She had discerned my inner turmoil on this occasion. And then she did the most unexpected thing – she winked at me! For a moment, I thought I was mistaken about what I had seen but, no, there was a hint of a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. She had winked, I was certain of it, and she had done it on purpose. Only moments later, Aragorn was presenting the married couple to the crowd, and I blinked as I was brought out of my reverie and back to the matter at hand. But I was grateful for Lothiriel’s distraction, saving me from myself.

Once Gondor had accepted their Steward and his wife with loud acclaim, the well-wishers came forward to offer more personal congratulations. Both Lothiriel and I were swallowed up in the crowd and I saw nothing more of her until we went into the Hall of Feasts for the wedding supper quite some time later.

Even wedding celebrations in Gondor are more stately and refined than what we have in the Mark. This had to be the most subdued wedding crowd I had ever witnessed, with their polite conversation and genteel manners. At home, the air would be filled with rowdy laughter and a few bawdy remarks about what was to come between the married couple. For Eowyn’s sake, I was grateful the latter was absent, but I suspected all this formality would only set her nerves on edge. However, there was little I could do about that, and I had to leave it to her new husband to distract her from her agitation now. Glancing at them, it seemed he was equal to the task, for they were often so deep in quiet conversation that they appeared oblivious to the mass of people surrounding them.

Aragorn was smiling at the pair with great satisfaction, and that was gratifying also. I knew that, for a time, Eowyn had fancied herself in love with my dear friend, believing he could rescue her from the caged existence she was living and give her the renown she desired. For all that Aragorn was, I did not think he could have been happy with Eowyn, nor made her happy. And I felt certain she would never have found peace as the queen of Gondor. Not that I did not think my sister equal to being a queen, but if she had felt chafed and restricted in Rohan’s court, it would be even worse here. This was an extremely rigid society, with very strict rules. Eowyn might have played their game for a time, but it would weary her soon enough. No, standing at Faramir’s side as Princess of Ithilien and wife of the Steward was much more suitable to her temperament. She would shine brightly in that role and Faramir would cherish her constantly. I was overjoyed for her happiness and contentment, even as it broke my own heart.

My musings were beginning to overwhelm me again, so I cast my eyes about the room to attempt a distraction. It did not take long for me to spot Lothiriel seated with her brothers, though I could discern that she had drawn inward and was tolerating this social whirl but not enjoying it. Unless she withdrew, pleading some ailment, I suspected she would struggle to endure the night’s activities.

Though I tried to turn my attention to others in the room, my eyes kept twitching back to the Dol Amrothians. I had determined to approach Lothiriel at the first opportunity, thinking perhaps to divert her sorrow with cheerful conversation, but as brother of the bride I soon discovered how difficult that was going to be. Once the meal concluded, tables were moved to the sides to allow for dancing, and I had an obligatory dance with Eowyn before Faramir cut in to claim his new wife. 

Other ladies pressed in eagerly around me, hoping for a dance, and I did not think I could diplomatically avoid them. For nearly the next hour I suffered a constant stream of partners on the dance floor before finally feeling I could decline any. Although I had seen Lothiriel dancing with her father and Amrothos, that appeared to be the total of her efforts, and now she had settled at an out-of-the-way table, likely seeking a bit of quiet amid all the turmoil and noise.

It had done her little good, though. The noblemen of Gondor were eager to squire the lady, and gain her favor. They had her surrounded like a pack of wolves that had cornered a deer. How could the fools miss the agitation in her eyes and manner? Surely word had spread of her mother’s demise; could they not even show a modicum of courtesy and compassion? Even as I pondered the behavior of these noblemen, my mind harkened back to Theoden’s funeral. How many ladies of the court had pursued me even in my grief, batting their eyelashes and fawning endlessly, as though I could so easily set aside my sorrowing for one so beloved in order to woo them? I supposed this was no different – they wished to seize the opportunity while it was there, regardless of whether their actions were appreciated.

I am many things, but in all my life, no one has ever called me timid. I decide upon a course and then act, full willing to accept the consequences of my actions. Why should it be different in social settings such as this than on the battlefield? There were advantages to being a king, and I fully intended to make use of them. Shoving myself away from the pillar, I downed the remainder of my wine, and set the goblet on a nearby table before I strode briskly over to where Lothiriel sat.

“Lady Lothiriel, might I trouble you for your assistance?” I joined the young men thronged around her, but my size and presence caused the others to involuntarily step back and give way for me.

Looking up, seeming slightly startled by the request, she nodded. “Of course, my lord.”

Casting a pointed look around the group, I asked, “Will you excuse us then, gentlemen?” Hastily they all sketched a bow, along with their murmured consent, and moved away as I offered Lothiriel my arm. Slowly she rose and laid her hand upon it, allowing me to guide her around the perimeter of the room and out into the cool darkness found on the terrace.

We walked in silence several moments before she ventured, “How may I assist you, my lord?”

A grin tweaked at my mouth and I smiled down at her in the moonlight. “You are already doing so. I felt very much in need of some fresh air, and I strongly suspected you might be also. So, you are keeping me company.”

She ducked her head and blushed with embarrassment. “Was my distress so apparent?” she murmured softly.

I laid my hand over hers where it still rested on my arm. “Only to me. At least I hope that is the case, and that those men were not persisting in making advances despite their awareness of it. I give them the benefit of the doubt that they had not noticed.”

She was silent for several moments as we continued to stroll, and then observed, “You are very kind, my lord.”

“Yes. I am a fine fellow when one has the opportunity to come to know me well!” I jested, and was rewarded with her laughter.

Glancing up, with a smile on her face, she drew me to a halt and said sincerely, “I would have to agree with that assessment, truly. Again I say ‘thank you’.” For a few moments, we simply smiled at one another, and then she turned away, releasing my arm and changing the subject. “So, tell me, Eomer King, what do you find to occupy your time, when you are not busy rescuing Gondor from orcs, or ladies from distressing situations?”

For the first time since we had met I almost felt as though she was distancing herself from me, and I was not sure of the reason for it. Still, I had been able to get her to smile, even laugh. She had gone to sit on a bench and I joined her there, shrugging as I sat down beside her. “Oh, the usual kingly pursuits – signing treaties, mediating disputes, practicing walking with a crown on my head so as to give an unstudied appearance…”

She chuckled appreciatively at my humor. Normally, I was not overly given to such levity, but I knew all too well how easy it would be for her to become mired in the darkness and sorrow of her mourning. Such jesting, I hoped, would help her focus on happier thoughts, and draw her back into the world of the living. I had seen too many forever lost in their grief over the loss of a loved one.

I turned the tables on her and asked a question of my own. “Why did you wink at me during the wedding?”

She smiled gently and told me, “You are not the only observant one, my lord. I suspected your emotions were more fragile than you wished to make known, and I thought perhaps it would help you get through it.” 

She looked away, seeming mildly embarrassed by her audacity, but I chuckled at the answer. “Aye! You are right. Today makes things so…final.”

“Yes…final,” she murmured, though I did not think we were speaking of the same thing.

After a moment, she asked, “Are you bothered by your sister’s marriage?”

“No,” I hastened to make clear. “No, not in and of itself, I am not. I am only selfishly bothered by what it will mean to me. She is the last living member of my immediate family, and when I ride for the Riddermark, I will be going without her.” I did not say how desolate that left me feeling.

She considered my words, then hesitantly queried, “But it will be easier when you have married, will it not? Then you will not feel so…alone.” 

She blushed and turned away, as I arched an eyebrow at her. This was certainly an unexpected conversation, particularly with a lady. I might not have been surprised had the noblewomen inside, who had been so eagerly pursuing me, brought the matter up for discussion, but I could not imagine Lothiriel’s words were a hint that she might be inclined to fill that role in my life. Deciding not to read more into her conversation than was likely intended, I answered mildly, “I suppose that is true, though I am not presently seeking such. There is too much that needs doing at home, and I would not wish to take a bride and then have no time to spend with her.” Then, grinning, I added, “Though I am sure this news will greatly disappoint both my advisers, and many of the noblewomen here and at home!”

She laughed and smiled up at me. “ _That_ is for certain, my lord! I…I have already overheard much discussion of your marital status in the short time we have been at Minas Tirith. I suppose it is sparked by Eowyn’s alliance, but there is much speculation with regards to you.” 

She faltered, seeming to think she had said too much, and looked away. I was silent for quite some time before finally admitting, “They may speculate all they wish, but I will not be pressed into such a thing. Perhaps I do not conform to usual royal expectations in such matters, but I want what my parents had, what my sister has found. I want a beloved wife as my bride, not merely a noble consort to serve as a figurehead. Until I love, I will not marry, and they waste their time trying to cause me to act otherwise!”

Likely she did not know how to respond to such a declaration, but at length she answered quietly, “I wish you well in that, my lord. It will not be an easy battle for you, as they are quite resolute, but I think perhaps you are a man equal to the challenge. And, personally, I think you have the right of it in your view. A queen can be a boon to her king, but a wife can make or break her husband. I do not think you need the added stress in your life of not sharing it with a true companion.”

I was startled at her understanding, but appreciated it all the same. Few ladies would say such a thing to me. It could only mean that she was either not interested in being that companion, or thought to find favor through her compassion. I blinked at that thought and mentally chastized myself. Lothiriel had given me no reason to suspect her motives. Why should I not accept her gentle words for what they were, and not seek some ulterior, hidden purpose to them? I could not restrain a sigh as I recognized the course of my thoughts. All the politcal machinations of late had left me on my guard, eyeing everything with a wary eye. I did not like living in such a manner.

Determined not to let others influence my thoughts and behavior, I turned the conversation again, away from me. Though I realized it might be painful for her, I thought now might be a good opportunity for her to speak of her mother. One of the things I had noticed was that people danced around you when you were grieving. Fearful of causing you distress, they avoided discussing the person that was lost, thus never allowing you to express your feelings. Those feelings, I was certain, needed expressing.

“Tell me about your mother – what was she like? As lovely as her daughter?” I questioned. I knew that last question sounded a bit flirtatious, but I hoped it would serve to put her at her ease.

She blushed, then shifted restlessly in her seat on the bench, gazing up at the sky, and I waited patiently for a response. Finally, she murmured, “She…she was beautiful.” 

When she did not continue, I teased, “So, she _was_ as lovely as you, then!”

Lothiriel blushed again, but it seemed to help her recover her composure. “Not so! She was so much more than I shall ever be! She was…tall and graceful, kind and compassionate. Though she could not often show it in court, she had a delightful sense of humor and greatly enjoyed teasing my father.” She fell into personal reverie, a smile on her face. I could not help thinking her words described Lothiriel very well also, but I did not press that issue, not wanting to embarrass her or have her think wrongly of my intent.

Seeking to pull her back to speaking, I asked, “Assuming she was not truly a sea sprite, did she hail from Dol Amroth?”

She laughed at my recalling her words from our walk on the seashore. “Near Dol Amroth. She was born and lived most of her life in Edhellond.” I vaguely recalled that town was about fifty miles or so from Dol Amroth. Erchirion had mentioned something about it having been where the Elves once resided, and from where many of them had sailed to the Undying Lands.

Before I could nudge her with more questions, she readily slipped into elaborating. “They met at a ball to celebrate Tuilere. Father was more than thirty years of age by then, and feeling much pressure to find a wife. Even so, he had resisted all attempts to tie him to any of the marital prospects presented to him up until then. But that night, when they met, he could not keep his eyes off her – something drew him to her like a moth to a flame. He asked her to dance, and he said looking in her eyes it felt as though he had known her all of his life. They became so lost in one another, they forgot all about the dance and others around them. They danced several in a row and then exited to the balcony to talk, and were not seen the remainder of the evening. Grandfather Adrahil was quite upset with Father’s rude behavior at court, but when Father told him he intended to make Sirrin of Edhellond his wife, all was forgiven. Of course, it took a while to do so. Things are never straightforward when one is a prince! He had to court her for a year before they were allowed to wed.”

“Then I take it your mother was as smitten with him as he was with her,” I commented, smiling at her tale.

“Oh, yes! Mother said she had been curious to glimpse the son of the Prince, having heard much of him, but when she saw him across the room and their eyes met, her first thought was ‘That is the man I am going to marry’. She just…knew.”

“Would that all of us could be so fortunate,” I murmured, and she turned to smile at me.

“You will find someone to love, my lord. I feel sure of it. You have much to recommend you to any woman,” she told me sincerely.

But I snorted with vexation and retorted, “Yes – a crown upon my head!”

She smiled at my answer, but quietly clarified, “That also, but I meant something more substantial. In the time that I have known you, you have shown yourself to be a good and kind man, regardless of your status. Indeed, I do not deny it is a very fine head that wears the crown of Rohan, and the ladies have surely noted that, but if you are to find true love, it is your many other fine qualities that will draw their notice, and acceptance of your offer.”

I had not expected such homage, and was not sure how to react, but her approbation seemed unfeigned. This was no mere flattery; she truly believed what she said, and I was grateful for the vote of confidence. I did not feel entirely worthy of her acclaim, but if I could rightly be entitled to such praise, then I could hope my future would not be so bleak as it sometimes appeared.

My thoughts were disrupted as she rose and smiled down at me. “And, now, my lord, I think we must return inside. Father will wonder where I am, and surely the bride’s brother will have been missed by now.”

I stood, also, shifting my shoulders and trying to prepare for my return to the noise and strain of socializing. This had proven to be a most pleasant interlude in the moonlight, though I had not expected that when I drew her away from her predators. Offering my arm, I nodded, “You are right, of course. But do not think I will hesitate to act if they descend upon you again, with so little regard for your feelings. Being a king does allow one certain…privileges, and I am not shy about using them.”

She laughed melodically, and my heart lightened at the sound. At least for a brief moment, I had succeeded in my goal of distracting her. We strolled back inside in comfortable silence, and I led her to the refreshment table to procure wine for us, as I was thirsty from our conversation and assumed she was as well. Not long after, Erchirion appeared and claimed her for a dance, and I allowed my eyes to wander the room to see what might have changed in my absence.

“Where did you disappear to?” Eowyn was at my elbow, eyeing me curiously as she sipped some wine.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to confess my whereabouts to her, but I knew Eowyn too well to think she would let me dodge the question. “I was getting some air and talking with Lady Lothiriel. She was telling me of her mother.”

It wasn’t exactly accurate in describing what had happened, but I knew it would be sufficient to answer Eowyn’s question and deflect her curiosity. Sighing, she looked up at me. “She is having difficulty? Faramir said that she was likely to suffer the most.”

I nodded. “I do not think Imrahil or his sons know quite how to help her. They forget that sometimes just listening is enough to aid someone.”

My sister smiled tenderly at me, saying, “Well, as I recall, you are a very good listener. Thank you for doing that. I know Faramir will appreciate it, even if her family does not notice. Too bad she is not so close with her brothers as you and I were, or at least in a different way.”

I wrapped an arm around her, pressing a kiss to her head. “I will miss you, Eowyn,” I whispered. “Very much.”

In response, she slipped her arms around me and we stood thus for quite some time, oblivious to the swirl of people around us, until Faramir came to collect his bride and make their departure. Understanding what was to come, very soon, Eowyn tensed in my embrace. Leaning close to her ear, I whispered, “Relax, little sister. You can do this. Women do it all the time. He loves you and he will be patient and gentle. If he is not, you are well able to defend yourself!” 

My teasing had the desired effect, and she stepped back, slapping my chest. “You are horrible! Evil, evil man! I take my leave of you!” But despite her words, I easily saw the tenderness in her eyes, which only deepened as she turned her gaze upon Faramir, who stood watching our exchange with mild amusement.

He offered his arm to her, gave me a cordial nod and the two made their way slowly toward the exit. Part of me wanted to run after them – force them apart and refuse to let him touch her as I knew he would. But that could not be. This was the natural course of life – a man and woman joining together in love, and then adding children to our world through that love. I very much hoped that Lothiriel was right and that I, too, could find such a thing. Winter is very cold in Rohan, and I did not look forward to enduring it alone.

The festivities continued on for some time, I am sure, but I did not remain much longer. I had seen Lothiriel depart not long after the wedded couple, and chose to make my escape as well.

_TBC_

Sirrin – “river queen”  
Walda - from weald - “power”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _FYI: There are some distances given between locations for LOTR, but not all. I’m figuring it took about 4 days for the trip from Dol Amroth to Minas Tirith by boat, and the Riders traveling overland took about 9 days. So having set out 6 days before Eomer did, they arrived the day before he did. (and thanks to Lady Bluejay for giving me a more realistic reckoning of the travel time by boat)_
> 
> _For this particular scenario, you’ll have to assume the Fourth Age started in Sep, 3021 rather than in March as I usually have it. Shire Reckoning fixed the beginning of the Fourth Age to coincide with Frodo sailing to the Undying Lands in Sept. rather than the March reckoning Gondor tended to use._
> 
> _Tuilérë  
>  Spring holiday. Tuilere was a day between the months of March and April. It did not belong to either month. Tuilere and the autumn holiday Yaviere were added to the Revised Calendar of the Stewards' Reckoning created by Mardil in 2060. The Stewards' Reckoning was used in Gondor and other places where the Common Speech was spoken, but not in the Shire. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Imrahil was not inclined to linger at Minas Tirith, and I needed to return home also. There was yet much to do in rebuilding the Mark. I wanted to be certain we were better prepared for the next winter than the one just past. Gondor had been generous with food and clothing, to help us through, but I did not like accepting such aid and was determined it would not be necessary a second time.

As it happened, Imrahil’s family planned to depart the day before the Rohirrim did. I was rather startled, however, when my squire appeared, informing me the Lady Lothiriel wished to see me and was waiting for me along the wall overlooking the Pelennor, near to the Fountain of the White Tree. Hastily I stood, straightening my tunic and setting aside the note of instruction I was preparing to send down to the encampment.

It did not take long, when I reached the area my squire had indicated, to spot Lothiriel. She had returned to wearing her mourning dress, a heavy, unadorned white gown and similar head covering. Fearing it might put a damper on the wedding celebration, her family had temporarily worn their usual attire for the festivities. This was the first I had seen her since the wedding feast, and I was not expecting her garb. In the Riddermark, we tended to wear dark clothing for mourning, but then only for a month after the death. I had forgotten that Gondor’s practices were not the same.

“Lady Lothiriel,” I acknowledged. “This is different,” I chuckled, raising an eyebrow at her.

She readily caught my meaning and laughed, “My seeking you out instead of the reverse, you mean?” At my nod, she ducked her head, then said quietly, while not looking at me, “Yes, but I had something in particular I wished to say, and I was afraid I might not see you before our departure tomorrow, or find an opportunity to say it.” 

She fell silent for several long moments and I waited. At last she continued, “Do not think I did not know what you were doing, though I did not always appreciate it at the time.” Now she did look up and hold my gaze. “I am better, and I must credit you with helping to make it so. I know the dark days are not completely gone, but I feel as though I can cope now, and that is something. Thank you.”

I could feel my face growing warm; I had not expected this. For one of the first times in my life, I did not know what to say. As I struggled to find words, she continued without noticing. “May I ask you something?” she questioned, and I nodded agreeably.

“Why were you so determined in regards to me, my lord?”

My smile faltered, and I shrugged. I wasn’t sure the reason for her curiosity, but I was very sure I was not inclined to examine my motives too closely, nor express them. 

Insistently, she reiterated, “Will you not tell me?”

Drawing a breath, I replied without thinking, “Everyone needs someone to lean on when a dear one is lost to them.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I was uncomfortably aware that they also applied to me.

She noticed the same thing, and gazed intently up at me. “And who is your ‘someone’, my lord?” she pressed.

I turned away, ill at ease with the direction the conversation had taken. “It is different for me,” I said off-handedly, hoping to deflect her questions, but she was tenacious and would not allow my escape.

“How?”

Raking a hand through my hair, I tried to come up with a satisfactory explanation. “Men…do not require –”

She snorted. She actually snorted, and I turned to stare at her, wide-eyed and disbelieving. “Nonsense!” she retorted curtly. “Men _hurt_ the same as anyone else; they simply feel the need to hide it. And you are very good at hiding it.” Her eyes softened, then, and she gazed at me with compassion. “What will you do without Eowyn there for you to lean on?”

I shrugged, unable to think of an adequate response, and we stood in awkward silence for some time. At length, she straightened and steadily looked at me. “Would you…may I write to you, my lord. And inquire how you are faring? Perhaps, if you at least have contact with someone who _understands_ , it will not be so difficult for you. I…will not be offended if you do not find time to respond to my letters.”

I could not help blinking at the request she made. Truly, I had not thought beyond my departure, and it had not occurred to me to remain in contact with her. At the moment, I couldn’t think why exactly I had not thought to suggest such a thing myself, but at present it did not matter – she had brought it up and now only required a response from me.

My lingering in thoughtfulness apparently made her feel awkward and she shifted restlessly, biting at her lower lip and avoiding my eyes. Not wanting to prolong her discomfiture I answered, “I…would like that, my lady. And I will make it a point to respond, I promise.”

She smiled tentatively at me, eyeing me closely for any sign that I was agreeing reluctantly to her proposal. Apparently convinced I was sincere, her manner became less guarded and she nodded. “Thank you. I have enjoyed our conversations. I look forward to hearing about your home and the progress you make in recovery.”

Taking her hand, I pressed my lips to her knuckles, causing her eyebrows to raise in surprise. “I thank you for your thoughtfulness, Lady Lothiriel. When I sought to ease your grief, I did not anticipate my efforts being reciprocated.”

She blushed at my words, but seemed pleased by them. Then her face changed and she murmured reluctantly, “I must go. I still have much packing to do to be ready for tomorrow.”

Releasing her hand, I nodded and stepped back. “Your boat leaves shortly after dawn, does it not? I am planning to come and see your family off.”

She looked surprised, then replied, “Yes. Father likes an early start, but I did not think anyone would wish to rise at such an hour if they did not have to do so.”

I shrugged. “I have always been awake with the sun. As Third Marshal, we needed to be up and about without delay, and I have not relinquished the habit. In some ways, it is my favorite part of the day.”

Smiling at my admission, she glanced over her shoulder then said again, “I must go. Expect to be hearing from me in a fortnight or so.”

I nodded as she turned and moved away, and I stood watching her until she was lost to sight. 

xxxxx

Almost as soon as I reached home, I was swept up in my kingly duties. With all there had been to do the previous year, including Theoden’s funeral, I had not had as much time as I wanted to travel about the Mark and see the situation with my own eyes. While I did not doubt the reports that Erkenbrand and Elfhelm brought me, seeing things for myself sometimes yielded information that could not be gotten any other way. Then, too, I wanted to meet my people, and allow them to meet me. I wanted to let them voice their concerns to me personally, so they might know I was not indifferent, and was doing all I could to restore our people to prosperity. The next few months found me rarely at Meduseld as I traveled from one end of the Mark to the other. It was exhausting, but worthwhile.

While I was certain my decision to follow this course was the correct one, still it was discouraging to see just how far we had to go yet in recovering. Many of my people lived in hovels, and what grubby clothing they possessed hung on their thin frames in tatters. I had known, in my head, it was like this, but seeing it before me there was no pretending it was not so bad as I feared, and worry pressed on me as though I were trapped beneath a huge boulder.

With all that travel, correspondence was difficult. As good as her word, Lothiriel did write to me within a fortnight, though it took nearly that long afterwards to catch up to me, settled in a tent in the Westmark. I had rifled quickly through the letters in the packets from Dol Amroth and Gondor, barely glancing at them but hoping to find one from Eowyn. I wasn’t sure what made me stop at the one from Lothiriel. 

Outwardly there was nothing remarkable about it that should have drawn my eye, no marking evidence that it was from her, and yet I _knew_ that it was. Her father and brothers all have a neat hand, so I could not say the handwriting had tipped me to the author’s identity. Eothain was with me at the time, and my eyes twitched quickly toward him to see if he noticed my undue attention to one particular letter, but he was studying a map laid on the table. Forcing myself to set the letters aside, I finished my conversation with him, allowing him to leave before I again reached for the missive.

Probably I should have first examined the letters from Aragorn and Imrahil, but we had talked much while I was in the east for Eowyn’s wedding. I could not imagine they said anything too surprising or alarming. Lothiriel’s letter drew me to it, though for some reason I was rather reluctant to actually open and read it. Shaking my head in annoyance at my strange reaction, I broke the seal and unfolded it on my table, drawing the lamp nearer for better light.

_My Lord, Eomer-King,_

_As promised, I am writing to see how you fare. We had an uneventful journey home, and now I find my life is beginning to fall back into a familiar routine. Even so, I keep expecting to see Mother – sitting at breakfast, kneeling out in her garden, coaxing Father from his study to come to meals when he would miss them for his preoccupation with work. I never realized how much a part of my days she was, and only now that I am ordering the household in her absence do I understand all that she did._

_Alcathir is assisting me, as we have agreed that the responsibility more rightly belongs to her than to me. She is now the mistress of this household as it will be hers when Elphir inherits the role of prince. Though none of us want that to be any time soon, we know it must eventually come, and the more time she has to prepare for it, the better it will be. Still, with two small children, and the hope of more to come, I would not have her burdened with the full weight of the duty just yet. Until I marry and go to make my own home elsewhere, I am willing (and she is agreeable) to carry the heaviest load._

_And what of you, my lord? Do you see improvement in the circumstances your people face? I know it was a difficult winter – I heard much discussion of that – but hopefully the spring planting will provide food in abundance and ease your worries in that regard._

_The horses you gifted to us have settled nicely into their new home. With more to do in the house, I am not so much at leisure as I previously was, but I try to make it a point to go riding at least several times a week. At first the Rohirric horses were a little uncertain about sand under their feet, but they have come to appreciate our beach rides, perhaps as much as I do._

_Alas, I know this is not long, and I pray you will forgive me its brevity. There is a formal supper tonight and I must speak with the cook and the housekeeper on various matters, but I knew Father was sending a courier to Rohan, and I was afraid if I did not get a letter in the packet, I would not have kept my promise of writing within a fortnight._

_I shall try not to let time get away from me again, and will start writing earlier so my letters will be of greater length in the future._

_With best wishes,_

_Lady Lothiriel of Dol Amroth_

I could not say why, exactly, but I found the letter…disappointing. It seemed so stiff and formal, as though she were politely inviting me to tea. I wasn’t sure what I had envisioned when she had asked to correspond with me, but somehow this wasn’t it. Pushing the letter away from me, I sat back, scowling down at it. There had been a few awkward moments between us, I freely admitted, and we had always been properly formal in our address to one another, but I had never felt so distanced from her as I did in reading this letter. What was different? She spoke of the loss of her mother, she spoke of horses and Dol Amroth and her family, she asked about Rohan – all of it seemed perfectly normal and acceptable, and yet…it was not what I wanted.

I blinked at that notion, my eyes narrowing. _What I wanted?_ What did that mean?

Just then, my squire appeared, notifying me that supper was ready, and asking if I would eat in my tent or at the fire with the men. At that moment, I did not care to be alone with my thoughts, so I rose quickly and joined him outside. I would consider Lothiriel’s letter… I had never noticed that I did that – always in my mind, I referred to her just as Lothiriel, not the more formal, proper ‘Lady Lothiriel’. Gritting my teeth, I forced the realization from my mind and went to take my place beside Eothain.

Most nights I was too tired not to drop immediately into slumber. Never in my life have I suffered with the inability to fall asleep, no matter how worried or distressed I was. Perhaps I knew there was nothing that lack of sleep wouldn’t make worse. But this night proved different. I shifted restlessly numerous times, unable to get completely comfortable, though there was nothing truly wrong with my bedding.

At length, I sat up in frustration, rubbing at my face and shoving my hair back in annoyance. What was the matter with me? What… Before I could consider the matter further, in my mind’s eye I saw Lothiriel’s face. Though most of the time we had spent together her eyes had carried a haunted look, no matter the expression on her face, this image of her was one of the rare times she had truly smiled, and for an instant forgot her grief.

I had never consciously noticed how full her lips were, or how riveting those grey eyes could be. When they fell upon me, it was hard to look away, and presently I felt very puzzled as to why I had never been tempted by that luscious mouth. As that thought slipped through my mind, I let out a growl of frustration. What was wrong with me? This was most inappropriate to be thinking of her in such a… _common_ way. She was of noble lineage! She was the daughter of a dear friend! Had I befriended her to help her through her grief, or so I could coerce her into allowing a kiss!

Slowly I lay back down, staring up into the darkness and attempting to examine my motives. My mind replayed all our interactions, both in Dol Amroth and Minas Tirith. Neither place, nor even on the boat between them, had I ever thought of her in any lascivious manner, I was sure. That could only mean that this feeling was something new, something that had arisen after I had taken my leave of her.

I could not truthfully say that, even with all I had to do and all that occupied my attention in the Mark, I had not thought of her since being home. Several times I had wondered how she was doing since last I had seen her, and I eagerly looked forward to receiving the promised letter, giving casual thought to what I might write in response. Well, now that letter had arrived, but nothing was as I had expected.

Turning on my side, I forced all thought from my mind, determined to take some rest. Lothiriel and her letter would have to wait until another day. I did eventually drift off, though not so quickly as I had hoped, and I woke feeling unrested and cranky. We would be returning to the Deep today, and I was in no mood for dealing with any trifling matters. Clearly Eothain, my squire and all the others sensed that fact, and kept a safe distance.

If I thought being at the Deep would improve my humor, I was mistaken. Gimli, true to his word, had sent dwarves to help with the rebuilding, and good progress had been made, but still the damage was significant, and seeing it brought back too many memories of the battle fought, and barely won, here.

I did not join Erkenbrand and his family for supper, eating alone in my room in order to spare them my disagreeable mood. Even so, just as I finished my meal, a knock sounded at my door.

“Come in,” I called, despite my reluctance to be disturbed. 

I should have known it would be Eothain, and given the privacy of the moment, he dispensed with formality to sprawl upon my bed. Studying his fingernails and digging a bit of dirt from under one of them, he questioned, “So, who put the burr under _your_ saddle today?”

“What?” I snapped, in no mood for his jesting.

His eyes lifted to gaze steadily at me and he smirked, saying, “Come, Eomer – do you think I cannot tell when something is bothering you? We _all_ can tell! You have been unpleasant the entire day!”

I shrugged, slouching in my chair and avoiding his eyes. “It is nothing. I did not sleep well last night is all.”

“Indeed? So, who is she?” he asked smugly.

“What? What are you talking about? I said nothing about a ‘she’!” I retorted too quickly.

“You did not have to! Any time you lose sleep, it must be a woman! Orcs never caused it to happen, the Worm never caused it and Saruman could not either. It must be a woman! So…who is she?” Eothain explained.

Sometimes I really hate having him around. He knows me far too well, and my rise to the kingship hasn’t dampened his tendency to tell me exactly what he thinks. Most of the time, I appreciate that honesty and directness from him. This was _not_ ‘most of the time’.

Since I had not responded, he sat up and leaned toward me, saying more quietly and with less teasing, “What is going on, Eomer? You are not yourself.”

Rubbing a frustrated hand over my face, I shrugged again. “I do not know. I was fine and then all of a sudden, I…was not.”

“Would you talk about it?” he asked.

I shook my head. “I know not what to say. I do not understand it myself so how could I even begin to explain. I must think on it a while and try to determine the source of my agitation.”

Silently he sat studying me, and then nodded as he stood. “Very well. But I am here when you want to talk.” He grinned before adding, “And I may even manage to be serious during the discussion!”

I gave a snort of disbelief. “I will not hold my breath in anticipation of that, Captain!”

He let his hand drop briefly on my shoulder, to give an encouraging squeeze before he left, and I continued to sit, staring at the fire that was beginning to burn low. I needed to get up and add wood, stoke it for the evening, but I did not move. Lothiriel’s face drifted before my eyes again, and I tried to focus on it, seeking a rational explanation for my thoughts of her.

She was a beautiful woman – that was a valid reason all on its own. I was concerned about her, and worried that she might be overwhelmed by her grief – but she had seemed improved, both before we parted company and in her letter. Involuntarily, my fingers twitched and I realized I was wondering unconsciously how soft her hair would feel to my touch. There was an aching in my arms as though they were straining to reach for something that was just beyond my fingertips.

All that talk of love and marriage while in Gondor, had that put ideas in my head? And were my thoughts focused on Lothiriel simply because she was the one woman I knew best and felt most comfortable with? Looking at just the facts of the matter, I could not imagine anyone would oppose a union between us. It was politically desirable in many ways, and I knew Imrahil held me in high regard. I did not think he would mind at all having me for a son. But even if that were so, what did I want? More importantly, what did Lothiriel want? Would she ever consider me? I did not think she had said anything in our time together to suggest she thought of me as more than a friend. I held her approbation – she had made that quite clear – but not necessarily her affection.

I blinked and sat up straighter as I noticed the course my thoughts were taking – marriage? Was I truly considering marriage, and to a woman that I barely knew? We had spent only a small portion of a month in one another’s company. Could that even begin to be long enough to make such a choice?

I sat back with a sigh. The truth was, I was tired, and I was lonely. Even though Eowyn and I had spent considerable time apart, I had always known that she would be there when I returned to Meduseld, and that had been comforting. Now there was no one, and home did not feel like… _home._

Tiredly, I forced myself up to stoke the fire and get into my night clothes. Leaving my meal dishes outside the door, I settled into my bed, a bit early but hoping to make up for the sleep I had lost the previous night. I had much I needed to consider. Did I truly have feelings for Lothiriel of Dol Amroth, or was I simply thinking of her in my loneliness? I would not wish to take a misstep and offer for her, only to discover she did not hold my heart.

xxxxx 

Though it took considerable effort, after that I did not allow my inner turmoil to express itself in a disagreeable attitude. It was not anyone else’s fault and they should not suffer for my confusion. Eothain continued to watch me, but I did not think he could help me in this, nor would talking about it resolve anything.

We continued our travels around the Mark, and I threw myself into the work, finding that helped to distract me from my jumbled musings. Only at night, before I dropped off to sleep, did I grapple more with the problem to see if I could wrest answers from my mind. Whether I wished it or not, I still saw Lothiriel’s face before my eyes, and I still longed to taste those lips. I could not deem such thoughts appropriate, but neither could I keep myself from having them. More and more, I began to think I must find time to return to Gondor and meet with her again. Perhaps only face to face would I truly be able to resolve this matter.

It took me quite some time before I actually responded to her letter. Eothain caught me struggling to write it and, when I reluctantly explained who it was to, he cast a puzzled look at me.

“How…refined,” he remarked, looking perplexed. He was silent for several moments before taking a seat on a chair across from me. “Why are you writing her a letter, if I may ask?” he queried.

“Because she wrote to me, and because I told her I would,” I replied, not offering much of an explanation.

“Yes, but… _what_ are you writing?” he asked, still trying to work this out in his mind.

I understood why he was confused. In the Mark, we are not known for writing letters. If you wish to speak with someone, you walk or ride a horse to where they are and have the conversation. It was pretty much that simple. Writing a message and sending it by way of messenger was not a common concept. Still, I could hardly walk or ride to where Lothiriel was, however much I was beginning to be inclined to do so, and certainly she could not either.

“She is too far away to have a conversation, but I am writing to see how she is coping with her grief. I promised to answer her letters, and so I am doing it.”

Eothain chewed on that for a few minutes, and then looked up, his eyes narrowed perceptively. “She is the one – the one that has caused you to lose sleep?”

Did I mention how much I hate having him around sometimes? I was not a good liar, and there was little chance he would believe me if I denied it, so I nodded. “Yes. I spent some time with her in Gondor, and…I just keep thinking about her. That is all.”

He pondered this, staring at the table where he was lazily tracing circles with his finger. “Do you love her?” he asked quietly. Eothain was never much for dissembling – he always got straight to the point.

“I do not know!” I growled in frustration. “If I could answer that question, then all the rest would be simple!”

Again he traced with his finger, lost in thought, before finally clapping his hands upon his knees and meeting my gaze. “So, when do we leave?”

“Leave? Leave for where?” I asked, though part of me knew what he would answer.

“Gondor, of course!” he replied, as if it was perfectly obvious. “You are here and she is there. You will not find answers to your questions by scribbling between you on scraps of paper. Go and hold her in your arms, taste her lips, and then decide if that is something you wish to do for the rest of your life.”

Yes, Eothain is very straightforward and to the point, but he is often right, also. Dancing around the problem was not going to resolve it, and writing letters to Lothiriel was not going to help me decide my feelings for her, or discover whether she held any for me in return. A journey to Gondor was definitely in order. All I had to do was find the time to make the journey.

I never did get much of anything written after Eothain finally left, too distracted considering what he had said. That night, I dreamt of Theodred. While Eothain and I have long been friends, Theodred truly was like a brother to me. Older and more experienced, he had shown incredible patience with his young cousins, and I almost worshipped him. Probably the biggest difference between talking about Lothiriel with Eothain and talking about her with Theodred would be that Theodred understood things from a royal perspective. Certain ‘strictures’ were lost on Eothain’s simplistic view of life. 

I could not help wondering what counsel Theodred would give me in the matter. To some extent, his questions would have mirrored Eothain’s – what were my feelings for the girl, and why was I trying to work them out from a distance. But he would also have realized why I couldn’t just climb on Firefoot and ride for Dol Amroth on a whim. Showing up solely for the purpose of getting to know Lothiriel better would have been viewed as prelude to marriage. Once there, I would be virtually trapped into the union regardless of what I determined about our respective feelings for one another. It would have been so if I were merely a nobleman of Rohan; being king made it even more complicated. 

I was reasonably certain Gondor would be eager for such an alliance. Much as my sister’s marriage to their Steward gave the two countries a familial bond, a direct tie to the king himself would make the confederacy even more secure. But I was not sure I wanted to determine the suitability of such a union for myself while bearing the burden of public expectation.

Most of my life, Theodred had counseled me to ‘trust your instincts’, and I rather suspected he would do so now. Like it or not, I would have to stay in the Mark for the time being, and focus my attention where it was more sorely needed. A wife might be desirable, for both Rohan and myself, but engaging in a courtship from a distance was not appealing. Until I had a valid reason for seeing Lothiriel again, I would have to restrict my efforts regarding her to the correspondence that passed between us.

Not surprisingly, Eothain thought me mad when he learned of my decision in the matter, but I held my ground. It ‘felt’ right, and that was the course I intended to follow. However, that still left the issue of a responding letter that I needed to write. After supper the next night, I sat down at the table, determined to pen something and get it sent off with a messenger the following day. I had already delayed sending answers to Aragorn and Imrahil’s letters, wanting to include a missive to Lothiriel in the packet.

Admittedly, what I finally got down on paper was not wholly satisfactory, but at least it was a reply, though just as stiff and formal as hers had been. Not knowing what to say, I commented on the weather, the situation in Rohan – though I minimized the problems so as not to distress her – and some inane remarks in response to what she had told me in her letter. It covered barely a page, written in my untidy scrawl so she would be hard pressed to even read it. I considered it a long time and almost threw it in the fire before making a second attempt, but at length I sealed it and put it with the packet for the errand rider. I did not have the time or inclination to agonize over every word. 

_TBC_

Sirrin – “river queen”  
Walda - from weald - “power”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _FYI: The colour of deepest mourning among medieval European queens was white rather than black. This tradition survived in Spain until the end of the fifteenth century, and was again practiced by the Spanish-born Belgian Queen Fabiola of King Baudouin's funeral. It was the custom for the Queens of France to wear deuil blanc or "white mourning"._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 (late July-early Aug, 3020 III)**

The Valar have a sense of humor. An odd one, to be sure, but they have one all the same. There may be those who doubt it, but I stand firm in my conviction of this truth. How else to explain my situation? Just as I decided to remain in the Mark rather than riding to Gondor to woo a lady there, where do I end up? In Gondor!

Two days after I sent my reply to Lothiriel’s letter, a messenger rode into our camp full tilt, bringing word from Aragorn of trouble with some dissident Haradrim causing problems in Ithilien. Peace had largely been established, after the War, with most from that land, but there were still those unhappy about Sauron’s defeat who continued to weary Gondor’s eastern border. Aragorn asked that I bring an eored, and ride with him to quell the difficulty, and I could not refuse. So I found myself riding for Gondor in spite of my full intention not to go there at present.

Still, despite the irony inherent to this circumstance, I reminded myself that Lothiriel was of Dol Amroth, not Minas Tirith, and I was unlikely to encounter her during my brief time in the White City.

Wrong again! I arrived at Mundburg only to learn that Imrahil had come to offer counsel to Aragorn, and his daughter had accompanied him. Before I could even fully adjust to that discovery, I was being drawn into a meeting with said lady. That was when I got my next unexpected jolt. Perhaps because I always envisioned Lothiriel as she had looked at Eowyn’s wedding, I had forgotten that Gondor mourns differently. Seeing her still clad in her stark mourning attire was like being doused with a bucket of cold water.

Surely any overtures I might have been inclined to make toward her, would not only be inappropriate but unwelcome. I suppose, in the long run, it was just as well that I was reminded of her sorrowing state before I inadvertently wrote something in a letter that would offend her. Here I had set out to ease her grief, and yet I had callously pressed beyond it long before she was ready to do so.

Gazing at her, I wondered which of us had the right of it. Did Gondor mourn excessively, or did Rohan lay aside their grief too quickly? I still _thought_ of Theoden and Theodred; indeed, it seemed I wondered almost every day what decisions they would make in my stead toward resolving the problems the Mark faced. Even so, any pain I felt over their loss was not expressed outwardly. My pain was my own, and kind words from another person would not ease it, or so I thought. I knew there were people who wept and wailed long after someone had died, and I certainly did not think Lothiriel that sort, but Gondor’s outward show of loss by wearing mourning clothes for a full year seemed too much, as though seeking perpetual consolation from others.

On the other hand, once a precedent has been set, how would one break the tradition without suffering censure? While Gondor had tolerated Imrahil’s family setting aside their somber clothes for Faramir’s wedding, I did not think they would be so understanding if they failed to properly display their tragedy for the prescribed duration. Even if Lothiriel wished to put away her mourning sooner, it was unlikely she could do so unscathed. The attending uproar probably would cause her more pain than simply adhering to society’s strictures.

“My lord,” she acknowledged, offering a curtsy to me and I naturally bowed in response as I was drawn from my reverie. “Father mentioned that King Elessar had sent for your assistance, so I was hoping I might see you while you were here.”

_She had wished to see me?_ I mentally shook myself; there was nothing surprising in that. We were friends, and had agreed to correspond, had we not? It would be perfectly natural for her to think thus.

“The delight is mine,” I replied. “I did not think you would be at Mundburg, so I was not expecting this pleasure.”

Despite our previous interactions, and the two very stilted letters that were written, we were awkward together. I struggled to know what to say to her, but finally decided to address the most obvious issue. “How do you fare? I see you still wear mourning clothes, but that does not tell me whether your heart is beginning to heal.”

She smiled, a slight shadow lingering in her eyes, and she murmured, “The same might be said of you, my lord. Though you do not outwardly express your mourning by what you wear, that does not necessarily mean pain does not still eat at your heart.”

_Why were we dancing around one another, rather than merely answering the questions each posed?_ I did not know, but I was reluctant to comment on what I was feeling. “A man is not permitted to display such things, except in rare private moments when he is alone,” I told her. If I wanted her to be honest with me, I suspected I would need to prove myself equally forthcoming.

She gave a soft sigh and nodded, “True. It is most unfair to not grant men the same courtesy which ladies are given. But please know that I think of you often, and hope that your heart is beginning to find peace.”

I was startled at this pronouncement, but before I could examine it too closely she added, “I continue to improve, my lord. The pain is still fresh, but each day seems to find it a little easier to bear. And keeping busy appears to help a great deal. I have less time to dwell on my loss.”

Had we not been interrupted just then, I think I might have forgotten myself and tentatively sought to discover whether she had given any thought to me other than in concern for my well-being. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, Aragorn joined us, summoning me to a meeting with his council just then and I was forced to take my leave of her. The meeting went long and food was brought in to us for our supper, so I had no further occasion to speak with Lothiriel, and we were departing at first light the next morning.

She had risen to see her brothers off; Erchirion and Amrothos were to ride with us, while Imrahil kept his men on hand to make the city safe in Aragorn’s absence. I could not be sure, but I hoped Lothiriel’s farewell wave was intended for me as well as her family members.

In some ways, this excursion was much like our ride to the Black Gate, with men of Rohan, Minas Tirith and Dol Amroth all riding together. But though this was still dangerous, as all warfare is, the odds were not overwhelming and the oppressive atmosphere that had prevailed then was not present. After becoming so accustomed to constant fighting, it almost felt good to be back doing what I knew best. I never studied diplomacy and statesmanship, and perpetually spending my days behind a desk, worrying over reports about crops and herds, was completely foreign to me. Sitting a saddle, my sword at my hip and a spear in my hand, felt natural. I was not entirely sure that was a good thing.

With any luck, our days ahead would be ones of peace. We would hope not to have a great deal of warfare from here on, and we desired to restore prosperity to our lands, Aragorn and I. If we succeeded, then I must become more proficient with other pursuits than brandishing a weapon and vanquishing foes.

xxxxx

The foray took over a fortnight, but proved very worthwhile in ridding Gondor of more dissidents. Aragorn decided that the Ithilien Rangers, whom Faramir had led so effectively during the War, would now be deployed to guard the eastern border, and hopefully discourage further incursions by renegade Haradrim.

We returned to a relieved populace. Though there were some injuries, we had not lost any soldiers in the various skirmishes, and the city rejoiced in that. A small feast was held the evening after we arrived, to celebrate our success before the Rohirrim continued on home the next day.

At long last, I finally got to see my sister once more. She and Faramir were at Emyn Arnen when I had arrived, and we did not make contact in my journey south. While the army was chasing down the dissidents, the couple had returned to Minas Tirith, to be there in Aragorn’s absence.

I wasn’t particularly expecting Eowyn to have changed her mind, or regret her decision to wed a Gondorian, but still I was pleased that she seemed as content as before. I did not like to think she might have married for the wrong reasons and then found it not to her liking. After the difficulties of her infatuation with Aragorn, I was understandably concerned whether she was thinking clearly. I knew she gave every indication of truly loving Faramir, and I thought him a fine man, but I needed this added reassurance that all was well for them.

Indeed, Eowyn was not just happy, she was blissful, and eagerly rambled on telling me of the house that was being built at Emyn Arnen. High upon a hill, in some respects it reminded her of Meduseld, and she made me promise to come for a visit once it was finished and they were moved in. She did not need to argue too strenuously in that regard – I was anxious to do so, and some little part of my mind noted it would be a good reason to have to return to the east in a few months time.

Despite all my good intentions to remain circumspect with regard to Lothiriel, still I was drawn to her. It was one thing to dream of her when she was many leagues away from me and I could not act on my thoughts, but having her so near, even before my very eyes, it was more difficult to keep my distance and restrain myself. Eothain persisted in encouraging me to approach the young lady, and although I repeatedly explained why I could not, he steadfastly insisted my reasons were irrelevant. While I knew he meant well, and desired my happiness, I did not need that added pressure to give in to something I already wished to do, particularly when I knew it to be impossible.

At length, I thought I had found a compromise. Dancing was not generally engaged in by those in mourning, being seen as too frivolous an activity when one should be sorrowing, so Lothiriel settled at a table along the perimeter of the room, sipping at a goblet of wine. I danced with a few ladies, for appearance sake, but then slowly made my way over to join her, hoping for quiet conversation that might eventually bear fruit when at last she was freed of the constraints upon her.

She seemed pleased at my company, and though we got off to a lumbering start, eventually our discourse became more friendly, as it had been previously. Even so, it appeared she was no less desirous of seeing to my welfare than I was to hers. She was determined to engage me in discussing Theoden and Theodred, and even pursued questioning me about my parents. Perhaps it helped her with her own grief to focus on someone else’s instead, but I was not entirely thrilled with the direction our words had taken. In spite of my reticence, she drew me out, and I told her far more than I had ever told anyone else, or ever thought I would share with another person. Eowyn had some inkling of my feelings in the matter, having lived through the experiences herself and feeling similarly, but no one else had been privy to our innermost thoughts.

I did have to concede that she urged my confidence with tact and compassion, but men, particularly in the Mark, do not care to show weakness of any kind and this appeared to be such a thing. Further, I had little intimate experience with women. While my mother lived, I am sure I confided in her somewhat, but once she was lost, Eowyn essentially became the only female in my life with whom I was close. I had flirtatious encounters with young ladies at dances, and casually knew mothers of my friends, staff of Meduseld or wives of shopkeepers, but no women to whom I would think to reveal my most personal thoughts and feelings.

One thing I did discover, in the course of my conversation with Lothiriel, was that I had never truly allowed myself to confront the loss of my parents. As we talked about it, I began to realize that I bore a certain measure of anger toward them; my father for his recklessness that ended in his death, and my mother for not being strong, and surviving if only for the benefit of her children. Those who are lost through unavoidable illness or injury are easier to forgive, but it almost seemed as if my parents had willfully left me.

Contrasted with that, were my feelings about Theoden and Theodred. I had seen much death as we battled the forces of evil, so I was no stranger to it. Sometimes fortune simply does not smile on a man, and he is lost in an instant. My sorrow for them was different than what I felt for my parents. They had done all the right things, yet still had fallen, through no fault of their own. In a sense, my parents had given up. My father gave up reason and got himself in too deep, and my mother gave up trying to live without him.

I did not like the tightening in my throat, nor the prickling of my eyes, as I made these realizations, and I did not voice them completely to Lothiriel, though I got the impression that she guessed at least a portion of it. Almost as though she felt obligated to share her deepest feelings in return, she expressed how alone she felt, being the only woman in a household of men, and not feeling she could seek solace from them. To go to them would only have caused them greater sorrow, and concern over her well-being, so she had suffered alone, until I came along. She did not specifically say that, but it was evident all the same.

I asked if she could not have spoken to Alcathir, her sister-in-law, but though they were friendly, Alcathir was wrapped up with her little family. Additionally, Lothiriel feared that confiding in her might mean it would get back to Elphir, and thus the family, again adding to their own heartache.

“Long walks and rides on the beach help some. I suppose the exercise is beneficial,” she mused aloud, and I smiled.

“I have always believed it helps to do something active in order to get through grief,” I acknowledged in return.

She glanced down as she fingered her dress, and then hesitantly observed, “I think I prefer the Rohirric way of mourning, my lord. Lady Eowyn has told me that once the funeral is held, your people put aside your sorrows and strive only to remember the good of those who are gone. I suspect we in Gondor dwell too much on our grief, and thus sustain it far longer than necessary, or wise.”

My eyebrows quirked at her remarks, but then I realized she was indicating the wearing of mourning clothes. Apparently, she agreed with my previous determinations on the matter, but yet, as I surmised, she felt compelled to honor the tradition. I did not make any attempt to comment on it, lest I urge her to follow her own inclination in the matter and bring censure upon her. I would not have anyone think she dishonored her mother at my behest.

We had sat talking far longer than I realized, and the event was beginning to conclude. Noticing this, she rose, giving me a warm smile. “I have enjoyed the conversation, my lord. I thank you for keeping me company. My apologies for keeping you from the celebrating and dancing.”

I stood also and shook my head. “Not at all. I was not in the mood for all of that anyway.” Cocking my head, I asked curiously, “Have you received my letter? I replied to you shortly before Aragorn summoned me, but it would have gone to Dol Amroth, and you were likely already here.”

She nodded. “I did. It came while you were away fighting. Elphir forwarded the packet on to us when it arrived there.”

Mention of my letter brought to mind the stiffness of our communications, and I flushed slightly. “I…I will attempt to do a better job of the next letter. This was not my best effort,” I assured her.

To my surprise, she laid a cool hand on my arm and told me, “It is sufficient. I am just pleased that you were willing to answer. I will look forward to hearing from you again, but first I must reply to you!” Her eyes were glinting with unheard laughter, and suddenly I was desperately aware again of how lovely she was, and how luscious her mouth happened to be.

Swallowing hard, I stepped away from her before I acted on the impulse shooting through me. Offering my arm, I suggested, “I will see you to your father and then call it a night. We depart very early.”

She did not question my abrupt formality, and merely took my arm to walk with me in silence. 

The next morning, as I rode through the silent streets with my escort, she appeared at the gate to the courtyard of her family’s home and waved a wordless goodbye. Eothain gave me a hard look after we passed her, but I ignored him and fortunately he did not broach the subject just then.

xxxxx 

The Riddermark once more claimed my full attention, at least during the day. Autumn was upon us and I needed to make sure that needs were met before we suffered the new winter. Despite that, once I was alone in my chambers at night, I invariably thought of Lothiriel. 

I was a little surprised at her quick response to my letter, particularly since we had seen each other so recently, but apparently she had answered before she and her father left Minas Tirith to return home.

There was an odd tone to this missive, and I contemplated it for several days, wary of seeing too much in her words, but not wanting to overlook any meaning that truly did lurk there. On the surface, it seemed perfectly normal…

_My lord Eomer,_

_It was a great pleasure to see you once more at Minas Tirith. When Father asked if I wished to accompany him there, I confess I was hoping we would meet again. I am not sure if I can ever thank you enough for your many kindnesses in my behalf, and especially for your great compassion and empathy for my sorrow. As you noted, my father and brothers have mourned in a different way, and I believe they were at a loss as to how they might comfort me when they themselves were struggling. Having someone willing to listen to anything I might wish to say of my mother, and my own deepest feelings, was a great consolation to me._

_Having had the opportunity to compare the mourning practices of our respective lands, I think I prefer Rohan’s inclinations in the matter, but that is not for me to decide on behalf of Gondor. All the same, when I allow my spirits to be lifted by activity or other means, I confess I feel somewhat guilty, as though I dishonor my mother by shifting my focus away from her. I would never wish to do that, and I could not have loved her more but, as you expressed, she would not have me continually weighed down by sorrow. She most assuredly would want me to seek whatever happiness I could find in my life, for she would certainly know that I always would hold her dear in my heart._

_I think you would also like to know that I believe I am seeing improvement in Father and my brothers. They, too, seem less burdened by their grief, and we all are finally adjusting to life without our beloved Sirrin. I wish you could have known her, for I think she would have liked you very much, and I have little doubt you would have felt the same. Indeed, I think you would have been amused had you been able to see my parents together! In private, Father was so different when he was with her. She brought out the best in him, including a lighter-hearted demeanor and great sense of fun. I was fortunate to grow up in such a loving family setting. I know you had something similar, though I wish you could have enjoyed it far longer than you did. Such a thing can make the trials of life far easier to bear._

At that point, she had turned her communication to more mundane topics, concerning life in Dol Amroth and the events of her daily routine. The latter portion I had read once, with mild interest, but it was these first few paragraphs that riveted my attention.

Could there be a hint, buried in all the talk of love and family and her mother approving of me, that suggested she might be attracted to me? Was that attraction one of the things shifting her focus away from her mother, and making her feel somewhat guilty?

I sighed, as I set the letter aside after perusing it for probably the tenth time since it had arrived. Regardless of any concealed hints therein, I still was not in a position to act in response. From the looks of my schedule, it was unlikely I would find time to return to Gondor before the spring, though at least then her period of mourning would have ended so I could feel more free to express my own attraction to her.

Growling in frustration, I rose and began to ready myself for bed. Until the spring, I would have to do my best to turn my attention from the lady, and not allow thoughts of her to torment me too greatly. But, more and more, I was beginning to think, even hope, I might well find myself with a wife in the not-too-distant future.

xxxxx

By the hardest, the Riddermark endured the winter without seeking aid from Gondor, and that pleased me immensely. I had worked long days and long nights making sure it would be so, and it was rewarding to see my success. Still, it had left me tired. Were I anyone else, I would have attempted to slip away for a few days of hunting and fishing, to simply enjoy being outside while freshening my skills in both pursuits. Meduseld could always make use of the food I procured, and it would have relaxed me as nothing in the city could, but kings had little opportunity for such frivolity.

At least with the advent of spring, I could begin to consider that long-desired trek to Gondor, and spending more time with a certain lady there. Eowyn had written that she expected the house in Emyn Arnen to be complete sometime in May, the building having been slowed by inclement weather, and I had it in the back of my mind to look for time on my schedule to make the trip then.

My anticipations of making such a journey in May left me slightly unprepared when a letter from Prince Imrahil came in the packet from Dol Amroth. I could not restrain a grin at the man’s inquiry as to whether it might be agreeable for him to come for a visit in order to purchase some fresh blood stock for his horse herds. A visit from a dear friend was always welcome, of course, but a line of the letter indicating that Imrahil’s daughter desired to accompany him, and see Rohan for herself, gave the suggestion even more merit.

Lothiriel – here? All the better! I would much prefer drawing her out, and learning if she could have feelings for me, in the more relaxed setting of my own home than under the rigid, watchful gaze of Gondorian society. Too, I could judge her reaction to my homeland. I knew some of Gondor’s nobility had been less than impressed with the simpler society and circumstances found in the north, but I very much hoped Lothiriel would not be in that group. Her family had seemed quite comfortable here; hopefully she would be also.

After quickly responding that I would be delighted to receive such welcome company, I began looking at my home more critically. I had never paid any particular attention to the way Meduseld might appear to others. It was what it was, and I had simply expected others to take it at face value. Now, though, I wondered how it might be viewed through a woman’s eyes – a woman who might be asked to come and live here, to be its mistress.

Over the next fortnight, there was a flurry of activity as I pressed the household staff to clean the tapestries and freshen the overall appearance of the hall. With or without the visitors from Dol Amroth, I had to think it did not hurt to present a more polished setting to any who came to Meduseld. And it would add that much more to my pride in my home.

I am not a man given to nerves but, if only to myself, I could not deny a fluttering in my stomach as I anticipated the pending visit from the noble house of Dol Amroth.

_TBC_

Sirrin – “river queen”  
Walda - from weald - “power”


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 (late April, 3021 III)**

Eothain’s presence was more a hindrance than a help. I was carefully attempting to cultivate the relaxed demeanor of someone completely at ease for when I received Imrahil and his daughter. Instead, Eothain’s frenetic pacing and comments were serving only to rub me wrong, putting me on edge and making me irritable.

“Do you think you might find somewhere else to be just now?” I asked my friend pointedly. “You weary me with your unrest!”

The man stopped in mid-pace to glare at me. “Are you saying you are not even the slightest bit anxious about seeing her? This is your chance, Eomer! If all goes well, Rohan might have its first queen in over forty years, and you might end up with a pretty little bride on your arm…and in your bed! Say you are unaffected by that knowledge!” he challenged.

With great effort, I restrained a grin and scowled at the man. “I neither admit nor deny anything, but certainly you are making me disquieted with your behavior. If you must be here, go out front and watch for them, but leave me in peace!”

I thought I had displayed admirable calm, but Eothain’s eyes narrowed knowingly and then he grinned. “As you wish, my liege! I shall sound the alert at the first sign of her on the horizon!” He turned quickly on his heel and scurried to the entrance of the hall before I could retort to his cheeky, and unhelpful, response.

Still, if it left me in solitude for a few moments prior to their arrival, I was willing to accept the circumstances that accomplished it. Rising from the throne where I had been sitting, I made for my study, thinking it would be best to keep out of sight until they were here. However, when no longer in view of prying eyes, I began my own pacing, unable to settle for any length of time.

At last, I finally heard the horns announcing they had been spotted, and I skidded to a halt. I ran an unsteady hand through my hair and then, realizing what I had done, hastily attempted to smooth it neatly back as it should be. Becoming aware of my efforts, I gave a snort and a rueful shake of my head. When had I begun acting like a callow youth? 

Perhaps it was that I had so little experience with women, at least with any serious intent involved, or perhaps it was that this mattered more than any previous encounter with a young lady. Correspondence through the course of the winter had been difficult, but Lothiriel and I had persevered. Over time, our words had taken on a warmer tone, and we had shared more of ourselves with one another. It was difficult to know what might appeal to her in a husband, but I very much hoped that I would not be too wide of the mark. I had made every effort to seem sensible, honest, caring and well able to provide for a family. 

There had been times, though she never outright mentioned it, that I got the vague impression she found my attempts at promoting myself to her as quite amusing. All the same, in return, she had given me similar information about herself, though couched in less obvious words, speaking of the many things she was called upon to do in ordering Imrahil’s household. There could be little doubt she was well prepared to be a queen to Rohan, at least in that respect. 

But far more important to me was whether she was prepared to be a wife, to me. Always in my mind, I had rather thought of wife and queen as very separate, but in Lothiriel I saw the perfect blending of qualities for both roles. While that was good, and definitely noteworthy in my selection of a bride, I was most affected by her ease with me. She drew me out and got me to speak freely as no one ever had before, and the very thought of her warmed my heart, filling me with inexpressable joy. More and more she crept into my dreams at night and my thoughts by day. I was very good at maintaining an impassive countenance to others, so likely none realized how often my mind had wandered far beyond our borders to the south. 

My arms fairly twitched with eagerness at the possibility of enfolding her in them, snugging her close and finally tasting those lips that had haunted and taunted me.

With a heavy sigh, I lowered myself into my chair at the desk and shook my head. Until this moment, I had not fully realized just how very much I had come to care for this dark-haired beauty with large, insightful grey eyes. For just an instant I was almost fearful of her arrival, afraid I might discover that my feelings were unrequited; discover she thought of me fondly as a dear friend, but nothing more. The idea was heartrending, and I forcibly shook it off, determined to hope for the best and that I would find favor with her.

A sudden notion came to me – was her year of mourning even ended yet? I had never paid much mind to the exact date of Sirrin’s passing. I knew it had been around this time the previous year, as that had been when I arrived in Dol Amroth, but the precise date escaped me. Straightening my shoulders with determination, I firmly set the concern aside. If the year was not yet passed, then I would merely have to keep Lothiriel here until it was, and until I could feel free to express my desires to her. No matter what, I would not allow her to return home unaware of my intentions.

My musings were disrupted as Eothain burst through the door, not bothering to knock. “They are here!” he exclaimed boisterously. “Come! They have entered the gates and will be up to Meduseld soon!”

“I should wait inside to greet them,” I replied seriously, disguising my purpose of tormenting my friend with my nonchalant attitude. “It would be more proper for the king to do so.”

“What? Are you mad!” Eothain howled. “Are you not eager to see her? Come outside, man!”

“What is it you expect me to do, Eothain? Sweep her up in a passionate kiss, before Imrahil and all of Edoras? I must be discreet, whether you like it or not!” I reiterated.

Eothain rolled his eyes. “Protocol! Bah! A kiss would tell you far more, and more quickly, than all your stiff social posturing and adherence to fancy proprieties! Act, and get your answers! Do not waste time with all this foolishness!”

With a sigh, I explained patiently, “I know you are right, my friend, but I _am_ a king now. And they are Gondorians. Both those details mean I must act appropriately lest I cause offense. If I want this to succeed, I must proceed with caution and tact – how ever inclined I might be to heed your counsel! Now, then, do try to remember I am your king while we are outside, and conduct yourself accordingly.”

He flashed me a reluctant grin, but it was enough to let me know he would not embarrass me. Truly, his only intent had been to further my best interests; I just needed to rein in his enthusiasm as to how he went about accomplishing his purpose. I moved toward the door, and he fell in a pace behind me. Together we strode quickly to the doors of Meduseld and took up position on the terrace. 

Already the party from Dol Amroth was approaching the gathering area at the bottom of the steps, and my eyes flicked past Imrahil to seek out the woman riding beside him. I could not restrain a small sigh of relief that her mourning attire had been discarded. I would not have to wait to approach her.

I was a little startled to find that she was looking up, seeming to seek for a glimpse of someone – me? – awaiting their arrival, and she smiled warmly when our eyes met, despite the distance still between us. Grinning like a fool seemed greatly out of place and inappropriate, but I could not help offering her an eager answering smile.

Given a choice, I would have hurried down the steps to meet them there, and offer to help Lothiriel down from her mount, but through sheer force of will I managed to hold my place. Being a king could be quite inhibiting at times. It seemed to take forever before they began the unhurried climb up toward me, and I carefully hid any agitation at their slow progress.

And then they were before me. Protocol demanded that I acknowledge Imrahil first, and I greeted him with a warm smile and embrace. “My friend! Welcome! It is good to have you here.”

He returned the embrace, and smiled at me. “It is good to be here, and in more cheerful circumstances than the last time. Perhaps I will be able to see more of your homeland than before. I know Lothiriel is eager to become acquainted with Rohan. She has talked of little else for the entire journey, and even before we left.”

My eyes flicked to his daughter, and found her blushing at his words. “Father, you exaggerate,” she admonished softly, then added to me, “but I do look forward to seeing your land, my lord. What was glimpsed during our travels here was most impressive.”

I turned to face her, reaching for her hand and pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles. Perhaps she sensed something unusual in my actions, for her eyes widened slightly and she gave a nervous swallow. “I shall be delighted to show how ever much of the Mark you wish to see. And, fortunately, we are considerably recovered from a year ago.”

“I am glad to hear it,” she said, giving my hand a slight squeeze before withdrawing hers from my grip.

Turning, I gestured toward the golden hall. “Welcome to Meduseld. Shall we go inside and get you settled? Do you wish to have refreshments? Rest?”

Imrahil put an arm about his daughter, guiding her along beside him, and I fell in on her other side. “I am sure Lothiriel would wish to freshen herself, and perhaps rest a while before supper, if that is agreeable, Eomer,” Imrahil remarked.

A sidelong glance at Lothiriel made me think she was repressing a protest at this pronouncement on her behalf. Did that mean she would have preferred visiting with me instead? I made myself set the thought aside; it was unimportant since Imrahil had already decided the matter.

Much as I would have wished to accompany her to where she would be staying, instead I allowed the housekeeper to step forward, and take charge directing a servant in the care of each of the guests. “Let me just wash off the dirt of the road, Eomer, and then perhaps I may join you for a drink. We can catch up on any news. Is that agreeable?”

“Of course!” I assured him, giving a slight bow. Though it grated on me, I would have to wait for time alone with the lady.

Once they were gone, I indicated to my steward to bring Imrahil to my study when he was ready, along with some wine, and then I made my way there. Before I moved away, I got a glimpse of Eothain, standing with his arms crossed and looking most disapproving of the course of events. Well, he would just have to be unhappy. For the moment, I could not change things.

xx

It took Imrahil less than a quarter of an hour to join me. For all my focus on his daughter, it was good to see him again. We had not had much opportunity to speak when I had been at Minas Tirith the previous summer, and I did enjoy both his company and his counsel.

We had talked for some time, and then, during a lapse in the conversation, he startled me by saying, “I have noticed that you and my daughter seem to have become quite good friends, Eomer.”

I blinked and looked cautiously at him, wondering at his mentioning this. What exactly had he seen and how was he interpreting it? I answered vaguely, “When I came to Dol Amroth, I could not help but notice how Lothiriel suffered with her grief over your wife’s death. I do not know if I was much help in the matter, but I thought perhaps it would ease her mourning if she could talk about her mother with someone. Certainly I have lost enough people from my own life to have some understanding of how it feels.” 

He nodded. “Yes, she suffered greatly, as did the rest of us, but I fear _we_ were not much use to her in getting through her sorrow. I thank you for your efforts.” He paused, then added, before I could respond to his remarks, “I have noticed your continued correspondence. I do hope she has not imposed upon you. It would not be surprising for a young woman such as she to become rather attached to the person offering consolation. It is easy for young ladies to blur the lines between gratitude and affection.” 

He studied the wine in his glass and then took a hasty swallow after his comments, and I eyed him thoughtfully. More and more, I had let myself think something was developing between me and Lothiriel, and that her eagerness to exchange letters was evidence of a growing affection. It had never occurred to me that she might merely be grateful for my compassion, and might mistake that for something more. Clearly, her father thought that might be the case. But how could I, or she, know the difference? And if it was merely gratitude, did that preclude the growth of love in the future?

Suddenly, things did not seem nearly so straightforward as they had been up until this moment. Imrahil had said nothing more, and a response to his words seemed called for. “I assure you she has not imposed on me. I have enjoyed her letters, and having someone to speak with, now that Eowyn is no longer here with me. As to her motive for writing, I cannot say. We have never discussed its purpose as being anything but friendly in nature.” My answer offered little explanation, but it seemed to satisfy him, for which I was glad.

Even so, he seemed to have something on his mind and it took several moments before he ventured more. “Do not misunderstand me, Eomer. I am not attempting to promote anything necessarily, but if the thought has not already occurred to you, I might mention that a union between you and my daughter would surely be looked upon favorably by all concerned. She is the highest ranking unattached woman in Gondor, and you _are_ in need of a wife and queen. But, as I said, I only mention this for your consideration. I am not attempting to urge the alliance.”

The conversation had definitely taken a turn from anything I had anticipated, and I very much suspected he was hoping for the union even if he was not openly promoting it. Did he suspect my intent regarding his daughter, or had he come to this conclusion solely based on his observation of the cordial behavior between Lothiriel and I?

“Your daughter is indeed a lovely woman, and would make a fine queen, my friend. There is no disputing that, and I will consider your recommendation, but for the moment we are merely good friends, that is all.” Perhaps I could have said more, even apprised him of my feelings for Lothiriel, but I firmly believed that _she_ should be the first one to learn of them. I did not want to talk about her with others; I wanted to talk to _her_ , and learn what was in _her_ heart. And I very much hoped it was _not_ merely gratitude that would gradually fade in time.

Our conversation then returned to inconsequential subjects, but my perspective had greatly altered in that brief exchange. I was no less convinced of my enduring love for Lothiriel, but I was now persuaded that I must be cautious, making certain her feelings in the matter were clear. I would not have her accept me merely from gratitude. Surely over time that would wane, and she would find herself dissatisfied with her situation. I wanted the sort of love both our parents had shared, and I very much hoped we both would find it in each other.

Likely it was the concern Imrahil’s comments had raised in my mind that subdued my behavior, and the urgency to get Lothiriel alone and speak with her was tempered. Several times over supper, I thought I glimpsed a perplexed look in her eyes at my reserved manner, but I carefully would not hold her gaze for any length of time. A warrior picks the best time and place possible for his battles; this was not all that different. I would ease into things by renewing our friendship in person, and then gradually work toward drawing her out on her feelings about and toward me.

And I should not have done so, but I almost took perverse pleasure in knowing how much my ponderous approach would aggravate Eothain!

xx

The next few days were unremarkable, save for the presence of Lothiriel under my roof and often in my company. But her father was also, so there could be nothing too notable about our association.

She had excitedly brought it to my attention that they rode the horses I had gifted to them the previous year, and told me she had made a point of choosing those mounts so I could see for myself that they were well cared for and loved. All the time I had known her, I had never had occasion to see Lothiriel ride, so it pleased me to find she rode astride as was the practice in Rohan. I had scoffingly noted the sidesaddle manner employed in Gondor. I could not deny that the women who rode that way did seem able to manage their horses adequately, but I was convinced it must be uncomfortable for both horse and rider. The woman must sit at an odd angle, twisting her spine most cruelly, and the poor horse had to endure an uneven distribution of weight across its back. How anyone had ever come up with such a thing I did not know, but I heartily disapproved and was glad Lothiriel did not embrace the practice, whatever her reason for refraining.

It did not take very long for Imrahil to choose the breeding stock he wanted, and the horses were separated and held for him until his return home. Once that was out of the way, we were more at leisure to wander the land, and I could show them places of significance to me. Neither had been to Aldburg, so we journeyed there and I opened my ancestral home to them for a few days. Imrahil discovered that my steward there was an avid chess player, as the Prince was, and the two were soon lost to the company of the rest of us. They would often become so engrossed that their games would drag on for hours, but as it seemed to please my friend to find a kindred spirit, I readily indulged him his passion, and did not interfere. 

The second day of our stay, when they were thus occupied, I offered to show Lothiriel about the town and allow her to do some shopping if she wished. She was delighted at the prospect, and we ventured forth. It seemed now might be the time to begin discerning her thoughts. I was not sure how to broach such a thing in so awkward a circumstance. The usual way of spending time with someone, eventually getting a sense of how they responded to your attentions, and then acting according to the response, did not seem to apply here. We had had so little time together, and then only in brief snatches, that it was difficult to feel I was adequately reading the situation.

I did not intend it, but in the midst of my musings, as we stood gazing in a shop window to see if the wares interested her, I blurted out, “My lady, are you grateful for my helping you through your grief?” I blanched, feeling the heat rise in my face. What sort of question was that, and how did I expect her to respond? Yes, I did want to know the answer to it, but likely if all she felt was gratitude, she might not even realize it was nothing more.

She blinked and looked up at me with furrowed brow, then slowly answered, “Well, yes, of course I am, my lord. You have been most kind. But I thought you understood that – I did make a point to tell you several times…”

It was clear she did not understand my question, and now that she mentioned it, I realized she _had_ thanked me and told me she was grateful more than once. Perhaps then, I needed to phrase my question differently. Before I could do so, however, she had an observation of her own.

“I will always be grateful for your compassion, my lord, but I hope that we have also moved beyond gratitude and become good friends as well.” She did not look at me when she said it, and there was almost a wistful tone to her voice. Perhaps my question had led her to think I did not regard our associations as she did.

I hastened to correct the misimpression, “Indeed, we have! I just…I…you owe me nothing for your gratitude.” I was stammering like a fool, but quickly added, “But I welcome your friendship. It has come to mean a great deal to me, and I have thoroughly enjoyed your letters.”

At my sincere remarks, she turned and smiled warmly at me. “I, too, have taken pleasure in our correspondence. It brings you near despite the great distance separating us.”

There was something in her words, something I could not identify, but I am a man who has learned to trust his instincts, just as Theodred always counseled me. And right at this moment my instincts were absolutely convinced we were in accord in our feelings. 

Catching her elbow, I steered her away from the shop and down a deserted alleyway toward a small public garden I knew was near. It was not entirely secluded, but it was the most accessible at just that moment, and I was too impatient to seek anything more private. Besides, if all went as I hoped, I had no wish to conceal the outcome.

She looked around, eyeing it with delight. “This is lovely, my lord! Thank you for bringing me here.” 

As yet, she did not seem to have recognized my purpose, but I moved in close, turning her to face me and leaving both hands resting on her shoulders. Her skin felt soft and warm through the fabric of her dress, and without noticing, my grip tightened slightly as I drew her toward me. “I am glad you like it,” I murmured, studying her face, the face so very familiar to me from my dreams of her.

Her cheeks flushed pink, and instantly she began to realize that we were not here to partake of the scenery. By now, I had pulled her so close we were almost physically touching and she looked up at me with wide eyes. “My lord!” she whispered breathlessly, excruciatingly flustered by my nearness, “There will be rumoring of an alliance between Rohan and Dol Amroth, if you do not cease your flattering attentions to me!” Despite the warning, her tone did not suggest an eagerness for me to obey.

“Indeed?” I murmured, stepping even closer and allowing a hand to steal around her waist and draw her against me. “Usually I do not give much heed to rumors,” I said, letting my lips brush lightly over hers and causing her breath to hitch, “but I think those would perhaps be ones I would wish to lend credence.”

Her eyes shone up at me, with surprise but also a good measure of delight. Encouraged, I leaned in and claimed her mouth, determined to finally taste those lips that had been taunting me for months. Though I tried to show restraint, not wishing to alarm her with this sudden display of passion after so long of sharing a comfortable, friendly ease between us, it was evident my ministrations were not unwelcome. She pressed toward me, her hands moving to circle my neck, and nothing had ever felt more right in my entire life.

As we paused for breath, I murmured against her cheek, “My lady, do you not think it time we call each other by name?” 

A grin tweaked my mouth and she laughed as she twined her fingers in my hair. “Aye, _Eomer_ , I do!” My name had never sounded so sweet to me as when it dripped from her tongue. There was an underlying lilt in the way she said it that caused my heart to speed up, or perhaps that was just due to having her wrapped in my arms at long last.

“Lothiriel,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Lothiriel,” I said again as I brushed another kiss over her eyelids. “Dearest, loveliest Lothiriel,” I murmured a third time, before claiming her lips once more.

xx

We lingered long in the garden, and though I noticed a few passersby casting curious glances at us, I did not mind. Word would quickly spread about the king and the lady, and as Lothiriel had noted, rumors would have us wed by suppertime. That would not have been altogether a displeasing prospect, but I well knew I would be forced to wait far longer to claim her as my own. Even so, in this moment, her eyes and lips and hands welcomed me to her, and made it plain that she _did_ belong to me, whether it had yet been made official or not.

In our conversation of discovery, I learned that she had long loved me, had even felt it when last we met at Minas Tirith. But she had felt restricted by her mourning, though she knew her mother would have rejoiced at Lothiriel finding love with a good man. She had never felt she could speak overtly about her feelings, but she had tried to let me know, couching her words in acceptable terms though hoping I would see the deeper meaning of them. Now it was clear that I had not misread her first letter after that last meeting. 

Somehow I did not think Imrahil was going to be very surprised when I requested his daughter’s hand in marriage, though possibly he was going to be caught off his guard by how swiftly the proposal had come. But he was an astute man, and I felt sure he would understand that more had been coming to pass through our letters than just conversation and friendship.

I was not mistaken about having to wait a considerable length of time before we could wed. Imrahil did not seek to make me wait the year that Gondor traditionally imposed on a betrothal, but the king of a country has to allow for guests and celebration beyond the ordinary man.

Lothiriel was as eager as I was, and pressed to get the announcements and invitations sent out right away. Through her diligence in overseeing things, we were able to fix a wedding date for late June.

When it was officially announced two days later, upon our return to Edoras, Eothain at first registered disgruntlement, and I knew it was because he had been absent when I finally acted to secure Lothiriel. It did not take long, however, before he stood beaming as though he had somehow had a hand in bringing the whole thing to pass! A rather conceited view of things, to be sure, but I was too contented to take him down a notch with a reprimand.

The Mark was recovering quickly, peace was gradually being restored in both Rohan and Gondor, and soon Lothiriel would be my bride. As I contemplated those accomplishments, another realization came to me – at long last I no longer felt angry toward my parents. Something told me that they had done the best they knew how, and I had no right to judge them for any perceived failure. Likely I would make enough mistakes of my own. 

The peace of Middle-earth extended deep inside of me, and that must be judged a very good thing.

_**Epilogue** _

“I am not sure I quite understand,” Alcathir said, looking up from her sewing, her eyebrows knit together in confusion. “You are marrying the king of Rohan? But you hardly know him.”

Lothiriel smiled in amusement, understanding why the betrothal seemed sudden. “Not so. I know him very well. True, until now, our association has seemed to be that of mere friends, but we have talked and written to one another since just after Mother died. When Gondor’s rules of mourning, and my own inclination, would have separated me, and forced me to dwell endlessly on my loss, he came into my darkness and steadfastly drew me back to life, despite all my resistance. I have come to know and love him most dearly.”

Alcathir tilted her head to the side in curiosity, then urged more information being shared. “Do tell. How long have you loved him, then? I have seen no sign of it in your bearing. I should never have guessed.”

Settling into a comfortable chair, Lothiriel sipped at her mug of tea, pondering her response. At length, she answered, “In some ways, I think I loved him almost from the start. He was most determined to draw me out when first he visited here, so soon on the heels of Mother’s passing. I resisted as much as I felt I could, but I did not think I should snub a king, and close friend of Father. I knew he meant well, though I did not appreciate his efforts. Then, as he offered consoling words and held me while I wept, helping me express my grief, I found I began to rely on his sturdy presence. It was as though he sheltered me from wind and rain, he drove back the shadows that haunted me, and he intimidated away any who would be insensitive to my situation. And, over time, I began to realize that perhaps he needed _my_ sympathy and consolation as much as I needed his. He was not so beyond his own grief as he would have me believe.”

She paused, thoughtfully sipping more tea, then continued, “I am not sure when exactly I realized that my feelings went further than gratitude, but I think I knew they did when I saw him last summer. Yet I was still in mourning, and I could not be sure if he felt more than compassion. I am much younger than he, and I was not confident that I was what he might consider in a wife and queen. When he separated himself from the victory celebration, spending the rest of the evening quietly talking with me, I dared hope that there might be affection growing on his side.” 

She blushed, then confessed, “I…I wrote him a letter that strongly hinted at my feelings, though I was not brave enough to admit them specifically until he made some overture. I was not sure why he held back, if he was in fact attracted to me. I think now, though, I understand his reasons. Rohan needed his full attention, and he wished to honor my period of mourning. He was determined not to approach me until I was free to respond without feeling guilty. Happily, Father chose a visit to Rohan at just the right moment, and I went hoping that we might finally speak more freely of something beyond dealing with grief over the loss of loved ones. I was a little caught off guard by the fervor of his attentions, once he sensed that I was in accord with his own desires, but I welcomed it all the same. Rohan has the lovely tradition of marrying within a sennight of a betrothal. I rather wish we could have followed that pattern, but I understand why we could not. At least Father did not require us to adhere to Gondorian protocols! I should not have been able to bear it if we had to be separated for an entire year! Oh, Alcathir, it is so wondrous! I truly believe ours will be a marriage like Mother and Father had. I almost feel as though I am bursting apart at the seams from the joy that fills me!”

Alcathir smiled indulgently at her sister-in-law, and told her sincerely, “I hope that is so. He seems a very good man, and I am sure your Mother would approve. I was not expecting this, but I see now that it is right.”

Lothiriel nodded, laying her head against the back of the chair and closing her eyes. _Right._ Yes, she did not think there had ever been anything more _right_ in her entire life. After the rain comes the sun, and Eomer was her sun.

_THE END_

5/25/08 – 6/27/08

Sirrin – “river queen”  
Walda - from weald - “power”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **And, so, the end of another story. Next up will be a new Rogue One Vignette posting on Monday (Nov 2), and then Wed., Nov. 4 will be the start of the next multi-chapter LOTR story, called 'Destiny'.**


End file.
